


Beneficial

by poland



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poland/pseuds/poland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feliks had always had inklings and urges for his best friend, dating back to as long as he could remember. He'd also always thought that one day it might be something that could possibly become a reality if he hoped hard enough or something that would leave if he left it alone, even though it never did. When he isn't the person to initiate a relationship, even a tawdry one, he learns that pain and pleasure won't be so easily separated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Incident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lachoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachoy/gifts).



> “Because, if you could love someone, and keep loving them, without being loved back . . . then that love had to be real. It hurt too much to be anything else.”  
> ― Sarah Cross, Kill Me Softly

Call him a romantic, but he'd always pictured his first sexual experience as something planned and all together pleasant. He would have settled for a bed, a scheduled weekend, someone that didn't smell like salt and a grease fire. Maybe that made him the innocent, societally brainwashed virgin in the story that wants their first time to be on a bed of roses and with the school QB they've always fantasized about. But it was his fantasy and he felt he was entitled.

Instead, Feliks got something the complete opposite of sexy or romantic. It wasn't planned; in fact, it was a complete and spontaneous shock. He wondered if it should even count, considering the scenario.

"Don't do that," he tried to guide his friend’s hands back up, not wanting to go any lower than where he already was. In his dreams and ideas about sex, it was rosy and a shining, clean experience. When confronted with the actual thing, he was suddenly hyper aware of how disgusting sex could actually get, especially going all the way. Unprepared, even. Panic set in at the idea, his stomach cramping up.

"Okay," Toris didn't question groping any lower and instead went back to massaging his friend’s erection rather roughly. It was no wonder, considering how frenzied and erratic he was acting. The whole scenario was so out of left field. He'd come to Feliks' house, insisting that they go up to his room. This wasn't an out of the ordinary action at all, but it was odd that Toris was so upset and almost crazed about it. Feliks had led him up there, expecting a feelings pow-wow but instead was welcomed with a hot embrace. Even he was bright and worldly enough to tell the difference between a normal hug and something like what he was experiencing. He was right on the money for once.

There was a kiss or two before he was being manhandled. If it was anyone else, he'd object quite quickly. Make no mistake; he wasn't someone who would be used. Feliks was a bit naive but he knew what a booty call was and what it looked like. Maybe if the circumstances were different he would be a bit more vocal in objecting to this display of...affection?

It certainly wasn't that affectionate. He was sure Toris could have been rougher than this and he was considerate enough to stop when Feliks objected to a certain action like pulling on his hair or fingering him. He wasn't being assaulted, he was perfectly willing. Maybe it was more like settling. Settling for a couple of kisses without feeling, a hand in his waistband, unbuttoning his pants while he stood their dumbly before he realized he was supposed to be doing the same thing; that Toris had actually asked him to do so in a cracked and graceless voice.

Feliks wondered too, again, if mutual masturbation actually counted for losing your virginity. Was he a virgin anymore now that he had his hand in his friend’s pants, feeling the warmth and strange stickiness inside? His fingers fumbled due to inexperience and also shock but he tried as best he could. If there were objections to his technique, they weren't voiced.

How they'd come to this place, he wasn't sure. It wasn't one that he didn’t enjoy, though, which made Feliks a bit scared. He wasn't supposed to be a slutty person who would settle for less than perfect. He would send desserts back at restaurants if they weren't garnished properly, but this he was somehow allowing? He was weak, he thought to himself. He would do anything for his friend. He'd wanted something like this for quite a while. Was he really so desperate that he'd take this as a substitute to something substantial?

His body was answering for him. He felt the strange tension of sexual release build up in his thighs which made him close his eyes. In frustration? In enjoyment? Either applied. His handiwork got sloppier as he felt himself get more and more near a climax. Toris' hand was going faster than his ever could, not at all gentle. Why was he aroused by something like this; Feliks rolled the thought over and over in his brain like a spinning stone. It landed at the base of the conclusion: it was Toris doing it so he couldn't say no.

He felt nothing for a few seconds, knowing he'd came while still holding' his friend's erection in his hands. It was kind of embarrassing cumming first since he wasn't even the aggressor but it wasn't like he could help it. If he could, he had no idea how. Feliks continued his own movements. There wasn't anything really inspiring about standing in the middle of his room with his pants around his knees and his underwear now a mess, trying to jerk his friend off, no matter how much he liked him. He gave a few half-hearted tugs before Toris grabbed his wrist, thankfully not with the hand that was sure to be a bit messy.

"You can stop," Toris breathed, having worn his jitters out. He extracted his hand from the lip of Feliks' briefs, not sure what to do with it now. He shuddered at the feeling. Both the absence of it anymore and also how he was sure he could feel...that stuff stick on his pelvis as Toris slid his hand out.

"You didn't, uh. You know. Though." Feliks continued a slight motion, even though his wrist was in another boy's clutches.

"It's okay, I'm sorry." Toris pulled Feliks' hand out himself. "I'll worry about it."

"Sorry," Feliks couldn't help but say it, even if he wasn't sure he had something to be sorry for. His resolve was a bit worn down.

"I really don't know why I wanted to do that," Toris almost seemed to laugh, though incapable of looking at his friend. To Feliks, it was insult to injury.

"Whatever, dude. It happened." Feliks tried to make his words light in spite of actually being a little hurt by everything that had just occurred. He couldn't make the boy he liked cum. The boy didn't really mean to do it in the first place. He felt more than a little like his virginity was ruined. "No sweat. Call or something first, I guess. But that was, like, really unexpected to say the least."

"I just...stuff just happened." Toris exhaled, looking at his hand which had traces of Feliks' semen on it still. "Maybe I should have explained first."

"Probably." Feliks bluntly confessed, about to pull up his pants but realizing how much of a mess he was downstairs. "You can do that after I, uh. Fix this."

Toris nodded, a bit more flushed at realizing what exactly he'd really done. Things grew tenser and awkward the more time had passed since it'd happened. Toris left the room without a sound; Feliks hoped he was leaving to wash his hands so he wouldn't have to keep looking at his own ejaculate, only embarrassing himself further.

He'd grabbed a new set of clothes (pajamas so it was more purposeful looking) and silently slipped into the downstairs bathroom. Washing himself off proved to be a difficult task to achieve, not in action but just in general. It was gross, he thought, and just proof that there would always be something in this world he was 100% weak against. He was changed quickly, not wanting to look at his pants or underwear anymore. If he was lucky, he wouldn't have to think about it again. Even so, as much as he would have liked to forget it, his mind swirled with questions:

Does this mean he at least kind of likes me?

If he wanted to do that, even a little, does that make him gay? Kinda gay? Twenty-five percent gay?

What do I say to him about it? That I'm hurt or angry or something?

Do I even know what kind of adjective I am?

Do I still like him?

The answer to the last question was the only one he knew and it was a resounding 'yes'. Maybe this was going to culminate into an evening that went something like it did in books and movies. Toris would confess he didn't understand these feelings he had and wanted to be sure. Now he knew that he was gay and in love with Feliks. Feliks would tell him they could try again and it really would be perfect.

On second thought, he would clean up a bit more if that was the case.

When he'd gotten back to his bedroom after depositing his messed clothes in the very bottom of the hamper and washing up a bit in his parent's own bathroom, Toris was already sitting on his bed, rubbing his hands and wrists and thighs. Feliks couldn't help but look through the crack quietly watching the mannerisms. When he entered, it was as nonchalantly as possible.

"So what's the deal, dude?"

"Feliks, look, I'm." Toris' voice was really cracked and shaken, almost as if he wanted to cry. "That was...so bad of me; God that was so bad."

Feliks wasn't sure if this was heading towards his fairytale ending or not. He just kind of laughed nervously. "It's okay. Stuff like that...happens, I guess? It's not, like. Some SUPER big deal." No it didn't. Yes it was.

"Of course it's a big deal. I feel like I just sexually assaulted my best friend...I think that's exactly what I did!" Hiding his face, Toris seemed even more wrecked than when he first arrived.

"Woah, that so did not happen." Feliks assured him, being truthful. "Like. I would have said no or something. It's okay."

"Are you sure? I can't help but feel like that's what happened. God, Feliks, don't spare my feelings."

"Look, would I lie to you? That's so insulting if you're saying I'm some big liar." He was. "It's cool. I'm way confused about why? But it's cool." It wasn't.

"I don't know, I really don't know." Toris uncovered his face. Feliks noticed that he still wasn't able to make eye contact with him. "I just. She made me so upset and all I could think about was...you. And then I came over here and did that."

Feliks blinked for a second, finally sitting down in his desk chair while hugging his knees.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know what came over me. God, I'm like some kind of animal."

Feliks really didn't know what to make of this. On one hand, it was really concerning. He still didn't know why Toris was so upset in the first place, but the word 'she' was giving him some clues. On the other hand, Toris looking for comfort from Feliks, subconsciously sexual comfort even, made him happy. God, he was really gross, wasn't he?

He just wished it hadn't turned out like that. He also wished he wasn't trying to check to see if Toris' erection had gone away.

"I don't really know how to say I'm sorry. How can I make it up to you? Can I even? If you hated me now, I wouldn't even bat an eye, I'd just leave." Toris was getting more and more worked up again, though in a more depressed way than manic. He was resorting to messing with his hair, running nervous fingers through it and pulling at the ends.

"Look, you need to just calm down, okay? I'm not worried about it. But I'm sooo worried about you, right now. So, like, deep breaths." Again, not exactly a lie. For the most part.

"Well, it's like. She came over. She didn't call or anything. Just came over and went upstairs. I followed her, trying to be polite and tell her hello and all she said to me was something about needing to know my social security number; she'd be gone soon so don't worry about it. She couldn't even ask me and I was right there. You know her mother's birthday was last week? I remembered. That woman is in a home and all she wanted was for her daughter to say hello and she bailed on her, she bailed on me."

Breaking the matriarchal mold, Toris' mother was a professional deadbeat mom. She left out of nowhere, citing she needed to find her true happiness and calling, when Toris was ten. Seven years ago. She'd shown back up occasionally only to do something terrible or pull a stunt that left Toris and his father rattled and upset all over again. Feliks understood perfectly being upset about that, he just wasn't sure where the sex came in.

"She's crappy as ever, what else is new." Feliks shrugged, though with sympathy. "Who doesn't know their kid's social- wait; my dad probably doesn't know mine. Do I know mine? ...Do you know mine?"

"980-46-9854." Toris recited. "I had to know it when I took you to the E.R. when you were twelve."

That answered his next question. "Oh. Cool."

"I just don't know what came over me. Dad wasn't home. No one else was there. I RAN here. I must smell awful."

"Like grease." Feliks nodded. "Burnt grease."

"I was frying something when she came by." Toris shook his head. "...Not that that's even important."

They sat in awkward and thick silence for a few minutes. Feliks was usually chatty when the spaces between conversations were about to get too big, but Toris kept looking like he was about to say something. It was quite a while before he finally did.

"This is probably rude but...I don't want you to get confused or anything. Or insulted."

Feliks shuddered that his first thought was how Toris didn't cum. "Uh. What do you mean?" Just to be safe.

"Well, I mean...I don't want you to think this means I'm lusting after you or something. I don't know what it means but I'm sure it's not that."

"Of course," Feliks nodded but felt his heart get thousands of prickles. "But, uh. You should probably think about what else it means, cuz that's kind of a strange way to act."

"I really don't get it. Maybe I'm just stupid."

"Or I'm irresistible." Feliks joked, if only to try to stop his heart from hurting more.

"Or that." Toris smiled, finally looking at his friend. "Thank you for, uhm. Being understanding. It almost seems like a first."

"I can't believe you put your hand down my pants but you're still insulting me. What a mood killer." Feliks laughed. The prickles became worse. His head was fuzzy.

Toris laughed, maybe a bit inappropriately. "Also, I don't want you to think I did that just because you're gay and I could...or something. Just know that the gay part has nothing to do with it."

"I wasn't even thinking about it." He had been, a little, even though he knew better. But he'd thought Toris knew better, too, and look how that turned out.

"Good, thank goodness." Toris breathed.

"You owe me, though. Dinner or new shoes. Something." Feliks unfolded his legs. Maybe moving would stop his head from swimming. "Or a nap because I am literally pooped right now."

"Oh, yeah. I should probably leave. Dad's probably home now." Toris sheepishly got up, not sure what else to say at that point. "Sorry, again. Won't happen again."

Toris left after that. They exchanged some other friendly pleasantries. Feliks did turn the lights off and lay down, like he said he would. He was truly exhausted, but it was more of a mental exhaustion than anything physical. He read in one his mother's health and fitness magazines that men tended to fall asleep after sex, so maybe that was it. But in reality, he couldn't sleep for another hour. Feliks kept repeating it in his head. 'Won't happen again'. Maybe that was what was most upsetting. Whether it was a heat-of-the-moment happenstance or a planned romantic evening, it would never happen again.


	2. Touching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “She hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years.”   
> ― Julia Quinn, The Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever

School passed by in a blurry haze as far as Feliks was concerned. It was the same thing day in and day out. Senioritis was in full effect, though if he was being truthful he'd had senioritis for four years. He talked to Toris, the same way as he had before the incident had occurred. He wondered if Toris was acting just like he was. If they were both being unnatural on the inside but projecting anything but. Their other friends didn't notice anything unusual, or if they did it was kept to themselves and whispered elsewhere. Yes, aside from the fact that neither had been over to each other's houses like the usually did quite often, everything was normal.

Except when Feliks let his mind stay still and he was home alone like he usually was. He would be lying in bed or eating a snack or avoiding doing a chore and he would feel the same nervous and achy feeling creep up on him. That feeling where he was halfway between heartbreak and fulfillment. That was a sappy and overblown way to think about it, he kept telling himself. His life wasn't a romance novel. He was just confused.

He hated masturbating, half in part to not really being sure if it was right or wrong or in between somewhere on his morality meter. The other part of why he didn't do it often was because it was so disingenuous. He knew it was his hand feeling himself, not someone else's. That wasn't hot, romantic, sexy. Just weird and it felt gross. Feliks did it occasionally though, mostly to relieve a particularly stressful random arousal. That seemed to happen more and more lately, though they weren't what could be called 'random' by any means.

Before, he had no idea how it felt to have hands on him that weren't chaste or innocent. Now he did. He had a specific thought that he could loop back and forth, any way he wanted to. Fast, slow, backwards. The first time after the incident, he sat awkwardly, bottom half off the side of his bed. Feliks couldn't lie and say that he wasn't ashamed to be touching himself or that he wasn't aroused by being so roughly fondled. That much was at least obvious. He touched himself anyway. Usually he would just rub his penis like most boys did when they were masturbating, but he recalled how Toris had tried to do something different, something that made him wonder if he hadn't told him not to whether they would have done something more lewd. It hurt a little, to stick a finger inside like that, and he didn't want to look at it when he'd extracted it in case he saw something he didn't want to. He supposed he needed something to help himself.

It seemed like a waste of money to use one of his expensive skin creams, so he went and looted his mother's cosmetics drawer. If she asked where it went, he could easily say he used it for its intended purpose as body butter. For now, it was a suitable substitutional lubricant.

Having something inside of him, even if it was his own finger, felt weird and not exactly pleasurable at first. Feliks knew he had to keep at it, though, to get the full effect. The less he thought about it the more he enjoyed it, he discovered, both in the terms of shame and letting go of his inhibitions. The cream wasn't exactly the best to use and made things tricky but he found he could get two fingers in easily after a bit. It felt better but he didn't know if he himself felt better or worse.

Two seemed like the limit so he tried deeper until he struck gold. That's what he wanted. Right there. He tried to ingrain that exact spot into his mind. He wouldn't have to waste time anymore, he could just get it right there anytime he wanted and feel good. When he touched it each time it felt different. Not like when he'd been touched on his penis. Both good, both different. That was enough exploring for the time being, he decided. Feliks knew he was close to getting hard and didn't want to have to deal with that messy disaster again.

In the two weeks that passed since their exploration, Feliks had touched himself six times, in various ways. Considering he hadn't actually masturbated six times in the past other years of high school, it was certainly something.

One of his girl friends told him, as a warning for something like this, 'Leave the straight boys for us. They can't do anything for you' and she was right. Before this whole experience had happened, his unrequited crush was manageable. Painful, but manageable. He could always say 'I'll get over it one day when I meet Mister Right.' and be done with his mind telling him to stop in his tracks for the day. Feliks thought his feelings for Toris would end up harmless. He'd thought that in seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth grade. Deluded. Now it just seemed so obvious they weren't harmless.

It wasn't harmless to his mind, either, to know he realized this over something so vulgar as a handjob.

Most of the time he didn't even think about it but at night, especially, he couldn't help it. Laying in his bed somehow brought up all these feelings and reminders that now he would never have that dream scenario. He could describe it in detail.

It was after a dance. He had gotten dressed to the nines, both inside and outside of his suit. He was aware of what was going to happen so he was sure to be shaved, cleaned, and perfected. Feliks was even brave enough to wear hosiery underneath his dress slacks, about as erotic as he could get. Toris would pick him up and they'd have a driver. He'd lean over and whisper to him about his secret and Toris would get flustered. It was hard to stay off of each other all night. In fact, when they were in the corner of the gym, Toris would sometimes get a bit uncontrollably grabby where no one could see. They would leave early; Feliks would say he had a headache. They'd get their driver to raise the partition so they could kiss passionately. Feliks would rub Toris' hard chest and their bodies would touch without seat belts on. Toris would have to be persuaded to get rid of the safety measure which Feliks would find cute. It was a rush to get out of their car because they both knew just what would happen. Feliks house was empty and Toris could barely contain himself; maybe they could do it on the living room carpet or the wall right there in the foyer but Feliks insisted on the bed. They'd make it up there eventually, all smiles and embarrassed glances. It would be a chore to take off each other's clothes, one piece at a time so no one was embarrassed, and then it would begin. Toris was a gentleman but also voracious. Feliks would be eaten whole. They would finish together and lay there for a while before they kissed some more, assuring themselves of their love for each other. They would sleep together, too wrapped up in their experience to worry about the mess they'd made. He had alternate fantasies and adjustments to account for college, working in the same office, if someone broke a leg, if someone went blind. Given a scenario, he could quickly adjust. Every outcome, though, came after the needed amount of chaste and not-so-chaste romance. In a truly ideal scenario, he would actually save himself for marriage even though that was a long shot for a lot of reasons.

He couldn't have that now. Actually, he never could have to begin with. That was what hurt him most.

Feliks was worked up. He was in bed, simultaneously aroused but upset. Would these things always go hand in hand? He couldn't forget Toris' words just as much as he couldn't forget his touch. The mixed messages got to be too much for him.

It probably wasn't his best idea to go over to Toris' house. His taxi driver kept asking what was wrong which Feliks spurned while flustered, though the upset was obviously visible on his face in droves. Feliks couldn't help it. He had to know. He had to be confrontational with him for once. He had a whole ten minutes to work up the courage.

The cab pulled up to Toris' house and Feliks handed the cabby his credit card, giving tip instructions. In the meantime he stared at the small home. Was he really brave enough to do it? To get a straight answer? To allude to all these feelings he'd had for so many years?

Toris opened the door.

"Hey, dude."

He wasn't.

"Hey," Toris let his friend inside. "Dad's out for the night. I think it's something about granddad, but I'm not sure." His mother's father. Feliks nodded. He wanted to know that information; how many people were around so he didn't start getting too excited in the middle of a dinner party or something.

"Cool." Was all he could say, suddenly feeling nervous. All his confidence was swept away with the hot air that escaped Toris' open door.

"Usually you call. Something up?" Toris asked. Truthfully he hated how cool Toris could be sometimes. Usually he was a mess over something or other but then he'd be completely level headed at the stupidest times. They would have a huge test coming up and he was fine. He would iron a shirt wrong? Completely in pieces. Why did he like this boy, again?

"Uh. Yeah. A lot of stuff is up, I guess." Feliks spat out, trying to maybe get the ball rolling. Maybe if he said one thing it might just snowball into other things. A long journey, single step, et cetera. This could work.

"You can tell me. You want coffee? Something else?"

Toris went into the kitchen before Feliks could answer. He trailed behind staying silent. His stomach, for once, was too in knots to eat much of anything. As he just stood there, stock still, Toris looked at him expectantly before just giving up on making anything.

"It must be something big if you aren't going to try to eat me out of house and home." Toris laughed, leaning on the cabinet next to his old, dilapidated coffee pot.

Feliks tried to remember why he came over. Was there a point? Did he want coffee? No. What did he want? Would it be cliche to say 'Toris'? Yes? This was more difficult than he ever would have thought.

"I guess I, uh. Just wanna talk or something?" Feliks shrugged, disappointed in himself for suddenly becoming shy. The more he thought about it, the dumber he felt for thinking he could. He didn't think he could even say the word 'penis' out loud on a good day. Maybe tipsy or incredibly hyper, but not right now. It would be a really awkward conversation talking about everything if he kept having to say 'your thing', 'my thing', 'uh, the stuff that...you know, comes out'. God bless, why did this have to happen. At this point, if Toris asked what about, Feliks would just say the weather or football or something else stupid. Maybe the taxi hadn't left yet.

"Oh." Toris' face fell while simultaneously trying to avoid looking at his friend. "Is it about that...thing that happened?"

"Sort of..." Feliks trailed off, thankful he didn't really have to initiate the talking but also disappointed he didn't have a true out anymore.

"You can then. I don't mind." Toris appeared to be trying his best to not look embarrassed and crestfallen all at once.

"Uh, yeah. I will. Don't rush." This was happening, God, it really was.

"Oh no, I didn't mean to." Toris rushed to assure him.

"Okay, whatever, uh." He'd stepped this far in, he had to wade out further into this dangerous pool of water he'd somehow been thrown into. The chances of drowning were high. Feliks tried to resist the urge to play with his hair or open and unopen one of the buttons on his coat out of nerves. Every time he tried to formulate a sentence or idea, it was clouded by the idea of Toris' hands on him. Sometimes he was sure it would never happen but it did. It was more trouble than it was worth. That was a lie.

At the same time it seemed like if he just pushed just a little bit harder, it could still really be perfect. If Toris could do that, couldn't he do other things? More romantic things? Sex and things came after the kisses and hand holding sessions, right? It should, Feliks thought. If Toris thought it didn't, why did he have to go and wreck Feliks' ideas? This boy was the same one he'd have to yell at people for in middle school but also the guy who was ballsy enough to try to have sex with him and then had the guts to go soft afterwards. Could he change that? If Toris was willing to get him off, couldn't he do other things? Why was that so hard to believe? Maybe if he showed him how to do it right, things could work out. They could be thirty and have a nice apartment and laugh about this if he could just show him how to do things correctly.

That's why when he came closer and kissed him, it wasn't 'against his better judgment' or spontaneous in his mind; just another fanciful whim he had to execute right this second. It had a purpose. This is what you missed out on. This is what I think you really want. This is what I WANT you to want.


	3. Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.”  
> ― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

It wasn't a very good kiss, but to Feliks it was what he wished his first two were like. Indeed, he hadn't been kissed before Toris had decided to take those two from him, but they seemed like a minute concern compared to his first shared sexual experience. When Toris had kissed him before, it was more like something to get out of the way. Rough and forgettable. That's not how first kisses were supposed to go. They were supposed to be sweet and innocent and something to remember forever. No tongues, just lips and feelings. This was another situation he had an ideal scenario for, edited and expanded upon at least once a month. If he was brave enough, Feliks would have tried to push every feeling he'd ever had into Toris just with his mouth. He would push every night kissing his pillow or the back of his hand into him if he could.

Instead, he was too preoccupied pleading with Jesus and the Holy Ghost, asking that Toris wouldn't push him away.

Feliks was actually surprised that he didn't. It was his first victory for the night.

Eventually, he pulled away and looked at Toris who he expected to have the stereotypical dumbfounded look on his face, but instead was met with one that seemed soft and yet bittersweet. Maybe he hadn't done it right. Maybe he had to try again.

This kiss he felt had more passion in it. He'd grown an inch over the summer. He didn't have to look up or lean as much as he thought he would. Were kisses supposed to be reactionary? Like...how did he gauge kiss interest? Shouldn't something happen? Did he have to try harder?

He moved his mouth like he thought he should and put his hands on Toris’ shoulders. He really meant it this time. Please notice how much he meant it so he didn't have to say it. If he didn't, he could just play it off just like Toris did. What came over me? Wow, sorry, didn't mean for that to happen. If he did, then he could have what he wanted.

To his elation, Toris kissed him back. It was slow to come but it did eventually happen. Feliks wondered if Toris had kissed anyone before. Maybe. Wait. Had he done sexy things with someone else before? He knew that Toris had these firsts of his that he cherished...but who had Toris' firsts? Did he? Did someone else? Man? Woman? Boy? Girl? Who? Was that something he could ask?

Toris grabbed Feliks by the arms which surprised him. He'd kept his eyes closed, because no weirdo kisses with their eyes open, but that made them open widely. To his relief, Toris' eyes were closed. They weren't stopping. Another thing to chalk up to a win.

Feliks pulled away finally, grateful to have come this far and remain successful. Toris didn't appear disappointed. More like he was confused. The tables had successfully been turned.

"What was that for?" Was all he asked.

"Uh," Feliks didn't know what to say. "I'm teaching you how to do it right? I'm pretty sure you suck at it." Like he was some kind of kissing expert professor. Professor Łukasiewicz, PhD in Kissology.

"Oh," Toris glanced away, flustered by the childish answer Feliks purposefully gave. "Uh, sorry. I wasn't exactly trying..."

"Dude, you should always bring your A game." Feliks chided, nervously laughing while looking around. He hadn't moved his hands and Toris hadn't moved his. He didn't know what to make of that.

There were a few more awkward looks and shuffling feet. Their positions were almost as if they were trying to slow dance for the first time and doing it very badly. Toris spoke up finally. "What else did I do wrong?"

"Everything." Feliks didn't mean to say that, but there it was. It was the truth. If he had to be one hundred percent honest, the only thing that was right was that he picked him to do it with.

"Everything?" His friend responded, a genuine look of curiosity on his face. Feliks sighed and just stared at him.

"Yeah. Everything? Is that so super shocking?"

"Well. No." Toris rubbed his friends arms, trying to be as reassuring as possible. He seemed to get the message, even though he was one of the densest people Feliks knew. "But I don't know what to do to make it right for you."

Feliks thought about what he really wanted. He wanted his perfect, ideal relationship and encounter. At this point, he would have settled for something a little less than. Okay, so he could compromise the hosiery for this. Take them, they belonged to the universe. They didn't have to do it on the bed. The living room was fine. If someone had bad breath or smelled bad, that's fine. He could be lenient. But that was his final offer.

These were long-term goals, he realized. While it would be super to know what to do in this scenario to make the outcome the one he wanted, or maybe even the one he would settle for, this wasn't a multiple choice question. It was in essay format and he hadn't studied. A blind guess wouldn't ever get him what he was asking for even if he thought luck could be on his side. This wasn't a new thought either. There would be days where he felt just perfect, like they were just perfect, and just leaning across the lunch table or texting him a few choice words would give him the world. But he never did because there's too many words to choose from; too many variables. One right answer, ten million wrong ones. He wasn't that dumb. He took statistics. He got an A in that class.

For now he liked to kiss the way he liked and it seemed like he could at least get that much, so he took it. Was that meaningless too? Would he say he was sorry; it wouldn't happen again? Maybe. Who could even know anymore? Everything was so upside down lately. For a traditional person, this non-traditional adventure was draining. 'Let's just kiss, okay? You'll let me do that, won't you?' was what he thought as he did it again. Again, it was reciprocated.

Feliks' mindset was dual-sided. One knew that if they could kiss like this in a way that was soft and tender-feeling, then it couldn't be hopeless. The other mindset found him to be humiliatingly gross to settle for this. Kissing someone who wasn't even going out with him, who didn't even like him like he wanted. Yet, he kept thinking. Didn't like him YET. These wrestled back and forth, arguing inside of him. If he kissed him, he could MAKE him like him. That's how everything else happened. He made Toris pick up stuff for him from stores, he made him do his homework, he made him do so many things. He could make him do this.

Did he want to make someone love him? At this point, that very moment? Yes. Toris had forced his hand, quite literally, but now he could force his.

He also liked teaching Toris how he wanted to do things. It was like a dream scenario, part of him rationalized. It was like seeing a nice pair of pants that needed a little bit of adjusting. You got them tailored, didn't you? This was what he was doing. Tailoring him into the perfect jacket to wear. If Toris was clothing, he was definitely a jacket, Feliks decided. He felt like one, the way he was now being held nice and tight. Victory number eight. Victory number eighty. Victory number eight million. He'd lost count. Feliks just knew he actually felt victorious in love for once which never happened. Never. There was no point in thinking about all the bad stuff anymore. Why even think of it when he could think about this?

Indeed, he was still not quite sure what to do with his arms so they were just sitting there still, occasionally clenching onto Toris' shoulders. That was something, right? He was an aggressor. An active participant. Not some useless dummy who couldn't even give a handjob the right way. Maybe that was also part of it. The whole thing, really. He had to prove that he wasn't that guy who would cum early so early, fall to pieces like he really was the weak one. He could be in charge.

Toris was playing the part of the jacket though. Unlike himself, he was actually aware of what to do with his arms somehow. Maybe it was genetically inherited. Some people had makeout genes and some people didn't, Feliks thought. However DNA worked, anyway. His makeout chromosome needed some tweaking. That was better than thinking that Toris just had a lot of practice.

Instead of being lost to busy thinking still, he stopped to realize that the kissing wasn't exactly just simple lip presses anymore. That would explain the arm thing, he figured. He couldn't believe he was missing this just because of some personality and morality crisis. 'Just enjoy it, man, it's not going to happen again. Probably.'

It was true, though. He'd probably been standing there dumbstruck while his mouth was being parted. Toris didn't seem to be an expert at this either, but it was still something. Feliks didn't exactly have a right to complain, but he probably would anyway later, whether it was to himself or not. Trying to mirror these motions caught them at awkward places several times. Feliks was also sure he cracked his front teeth a few times. No one cared, though. Maybe one day, when they had a loft and three dogs, he would stop their kisses to complain about how he didn't need to have his teeth replaced but that was in the future. This was now. It was also a little embarrassing to think about how he was probably better off just keeping his mouth open and continuing to let Toris do all the work. He wasn't going to settle for second fiddle, though. There was something to prove here.

He tried a little harder. Maybe if he couldn't be truly aggressive, he could settle for doing submissive as good as anybody. Better than. That was a science in and of itself that he wasn't exactly sure of. Kissing wasn't something that magical like he hoped. Feliks was going to sue Hollywood, every novelist, and any advertising product he could think of. How could they lie like this? Kissing was supposed to be something that was like two puzzle pieces coming together: perfectly fitting and matched. Not something where he didn't know where his tongue should go, if his tongue was involved at all, how hard was too hard to bite? Seriously, where were the pamphlets or self-help books on the perfect way to bite someone in a sexy way.

Not that he would ever touch those, but the sentiment remained.

They hadn't escalated there yet, though, which was perfectly fine in his book. He needed a bit more practice to unlock those kinds of achievements. How many experience points did you need to rank up to French kissing? Biting? Kissing elsewhere? Seriously, where was the book for this? Feliks wasn't even sure how long they had kissed until he broke away again to look at the microwave clock. Five minutes. That seemed like enough time to do something else. But what? How?

He noticed then, too, that Toris didn't taste or smell bad. No burnt grease or salt or what he thought might have been residual, choked-back sick last time. There wasn't any real taste he could garner from his mouth. He smelled cotton. His sweater was new. Feliks was fine with this.

"Is this like kissing it better or something?" Toris asked, exhaling deeply. Feliks wasn't sure if that was supposed to be funny. He didn't laugh, either way.

"I dunno. Are you complaining or something?" Feliks decided that humorous but cool indifference was the best way to not only get him back, but also to hide the fact that now that he'd come up for air, he couldn't feel his legs anymore.

"Not really..." Toris wasn't good at faking anything so he didn't. He also kissed him first this time. Victory three hundred thousand.

Feliks was happy to find out it did get easier to do the more they did it. In a few more minutes, he was more confident in what he was supposed to do. Open your mouth now, close it now. A little tongue now. They'd gotten to a little of the tongue part. It was weirder than he thought it would be but also not unenjoyable. Not at all. Maybe it was really like puzzle pieces. You just had to squeeze them a little bit to make them fit. He'd cheated at puzzles many times with this method. Why not here?

Another thing he noticed was that kissing also reminded him of those seminars they had to sit through in middle school about how drugs were bad and all that stupid jazz they told kids every five hours in school. Amid the pictures of meth addicts and crack pipes, they'd talked about how marijuana was a gateway drug that people thought was fine and cool until one day out of the blue they suddenly wanted to try heroin and died a week later. They always made his skin crawl. You sold him, fat police officer. No Mary Jane here.

Kissing was a gateway drug, he thought. After he'd kissed enough, he wanted to do more things. He didn't want to go from kissing to the heroin-level stuff yet, but he knew he wanted to do more than just lean against a counter for three house and dry out his mouth, no matter how much he liked this. Maybe he would like other things just as much. Maybe more.

It was strange to him that the Toris from weeks ago was all over him in a matter of seconds while this one was fine with kissing for ten minutes. These were two different people. He loved them both, but maybe this one a little bit more than the other. The part that he was concerned about now was how he made the other Toris stop by for a little visit. He couldn't survive with a good conscious if he suddenly just said or did something upsetting to somehow flip that switch. There was also the risk that instead of his hand down Feliks' pants, it would be someone else since he was the cause of such grief. No. Out of the question.

When they were having their little sexual session, Toris had said what he wanted. Feliks obliged. If he could find it in himself to ask for something, would Toris say yes? It was only fair. Wait...WAS it fair to expect reparations like that?

He wasn't sure but he didn't feel like kissing for ten more minutes, especially on a deadline. Who knew when Toris' father would show back up. Thankfully they had a warning sound or two, a slamming door and a bit of a hallway to the kitchen. But still. Feliks had done a lot of questionable things lately. Being caught heavy petting in the kitchen by his best friend's father WITH his best friend wouldn't be one of them.

It was now or never. Just say it. Whatever it is. Say it. What's the worst that could happen? A lot of horrible things, actually. Just don't miss the opportunity.

Feliks moved his arms which made Toris stop for a second, expect his friend to pull away. Instead, he looped them behind Toris' back, feeling the stiffness there and the stiffness in his own hands.

"Can we." Feliks managed to choke out, having to clear his throat a little. He wasn't sure what to say next. What did he want next? Another thing they needed a book about. Maybe if he got better at this, he'd write it himself. "Like." He looked down, flushed a bit for multiple reasons, those fairly obvious.

It was Toris' turn to look at the clock, nervously swallowing. Feliks could feel his whole body tense. He tried to find a way to relax his muscles since he was literally touching Toris with most of them. He'd said the wrong thing and he knew it. He put his chips on 18 and the roulette wheel had come up 3. Of course.

"Yeah," Toris finally nodded, looking down at his friend with a strange expression in his eyes that Feliks couldn't exactly place. "We can."

In a miraculous recovery, the ball bounced out of 3 and rolled all the way to 18; the house takes a loss. Feliks won something. Victory number one billion.


	4. Doppelganger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I saw myself in a piece of glass that wasn’t a mirror. Was that my doppelganger or my clone? Who was that? Who am I? Maybe if I hadn’t been acting like a reverse Peeping Tom, trying to look out into the world, this existential dilemma wouldn’t have popped up.”   
> ― Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not FOR SALE

The first thought that horrified Feliks was that they might have had their wires crossed about what exactly he wanted. Usually, he wasn't the worrying sort. Now it seemed like all he could do was worry. God, the things this boy put him through. 

They hadn't done anything but now that he'd made such a big leap, at least to him, everything was suddenly terrifying. Did Toris think he suddenly wanted to just lay on the floor and be had right there? Was that even bad? What a thought to have. He, Feliks Łukasiewicz, thought that thought on December 5th. One for the record books.

There were a lot of issues with this.

Image issues. Toris was going to think he was some big slut. Or a big gay slut. A big gay slut who was okay with doing it on the kitchen floor. Or even on a coffee pot.

Morality issues. This seemed wrong. Please, Jesus, if you were happening to be watching, please look away. God and all the saints, avert your eyes.

Standards issues. He really was that person, though. That would kiss and feel up someone just to say he had, because he wanted to and not because he thought it was right. Feliks was pretty sure most teenage boys, especially ones that were newly legal, didn't think this was a bad thing. He didn't want to be one of those people.

Holy crap. This was actually illegal. Did this place have Romeo and Juliet laws? How did he even know what those were? The deep recesses of his mind were churning. He missed the time where all he had to think about during a normal day were what to eat for dinner and how to avoid as much homework as possible. Now he was thinking about the legal system. Being an adult was hard.

Feliks also surprised himself by thinking 'Who will even know?' He waved that away mentally by thinking that those kinds of things only mattered when sex happened. Wait, did handjobs count as sex? Was he technically a felon? Jesus would need earplugs and a blindfold. He would repent in prison.

Also, how long had he been standing there like a deer in the headlights?

"Oh, uhm. Cool." He laughed loudly. "Super cool."

He thought about what would happen next. If he took control like he was earlier, tailoring Toris into a coat suitable for all-weather wearing, he could say when to stop. In fact, he could do that at any time. Just say no, and all that. So if suddenly he was stripped bare and laid out for heaven to see on the ground, he could just say no, leave, and that would be that. Yeah. An exit strategy.

Now that that was settled, he returned to the idea that he did want to do more than kiss. He still wasn't sure exactly what his brain and body meant by that. Toris' hands had been on his back. They weren't feeling him up much but they were there. Since he found himself incapable of actually enjoying anything while his mind was racing constantly, over-thinking every tinge of emotion he had, he thought about it now. They had stayed in the center of his back, almost gentlemanly. Not in a sensual way. Did he like that? Did he dislike that? They kneaded him like a cat would a soft pillow, he recalled, aware exactly of where they were on his back. His body knew he wanted that, it felt like, even if his mind took a second to catch up. Feliks decided he liked being touched like that. Not something to call delicate but not something that was handsy or clumsy. It was loving.

As loving as it could be when Toris didn't love him.

Spacing out again, Toris may have reacted to what he'd said but he couldn't even know. He wasn't doing anything. Kissing or otherwise. Just looking at him, a half-expectant look on his face. Had he actually asked what Feliks had wanted? That seemed like a Toris-y thing to do. Now that he knew what he wanted, sort of, he could react accordingly.

He lifted his arms up to the place where Toris' had been, the positions reversed. It seemed too weird to do it without kissing, though, so Feliks instigated that again. He seemed to be good at that now. As good as he could be. A month ago, he would have laughed at the idea that he would be initiating kisses with anyone, let alone Toris. But here he was, smushing the puzzle pieces together.

Feliks tried to imitate the motions Toris was making. He wondered if it was a conscious thing. If this would be something twelve, twenty, or a million times better if he could just shut his mind off. Which was something he was good at. Boring class? Shut off. Mom called, yelling at him for using her credit card? Shut off. Toris talked about a girl he liked in middle school once. Shut off, powered down, vegetative state.

He seemed to be doing an okay job. Toris was reactionary. Almost perfect. The only sounds either of them were making were inhaling and exhaling. Feliks didn't mind the teeth clinking they still experienced or the strange suction-y sound their mouths would make. He was finally doing it. He decided at that moment. Nothing else. The objective was to enjoy what he had.

As soon as he actually reconciled with the idea that this could be completely, 100% enjoyable, it was like a new Feliks existed. He'd heard in their literature class about something called a doppelganger. Someone who looked just like someone else. Their intentions were unknown but never seemed to be good in anything they ever read about them. That was what had happened. He hadn't been held by Toris; he had been held by something else. It was his doppelganger. It was his turn to become a replica. It would only be for tonight, he decided soon after. Just one night of being a replica of bad intentions. One night couldn't hurt him.

Being a doppelganger was fairly easy once he decided that was what he must be. A doppelganger did what they wanted, he thought, taking on his skin and appearance and doing all of the things he couldn't. A doppelganger could rob a store and vanish and no one would know the wiser. Feliks could be anything he wanted as a doppelganger. He just had to look like himself and do whatever he wanted. It was just like normal minus a few choice obligations.

Now he felt like he needed to sink his claws into Toris. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. He couldn't let it pass by without enjoying every minute. He grabbed Toris like he was about to fall off of a skyscraper. Whether it was to save them or fall off together he couldn't be sure. Most likely the latter. Now they both had fallen. Why not do it together? He had trimmed nails, but he could still feel Toris suck in at the sensation of one or two contacting his flesh even with his cotton-coating. It didn't deter them. They continued to kiss. It almost hurt.

Toris grabbed his face to kiss him before letting go; he wanted to be in control again. He had three callouses; Feliks could recite them if asked and could since tenth grade. One on the very pad of his right thumb, a larger one on the same hand on the side of his index finger, and another on his left pinky pad. He could feel all of them. Holding someone's face while you kissed was romantic, Feliks thought, if any print or visual media were to be trusted. They weren't, but this was one truth he'd hang onto. Real!Feliks would like this, Doppelganger!Feliks decided. Or maybe they both liked it. That was a better answer. One just saw it as a romantic declaration and another saw it as an elevation.

Real!Feliks didn't want to be like a scene out of a nickel romance like his mother read. Doppelganger!Feliks was perfectly fine with it.

Whereas Toris was being the saint he really was and was back to keeping his hands at a middle school-level of appropriateness on his back, Feliks was daring. His hands got lower until they could feel the end of the fabric. He had two options, as he saw it. Go lower or go higher. His doppelganger persona wasn't completely without inhibitions, though. His hands slid up Toris back. It was warm. His hands were cold. He liked how they became warmer. He liked feeling that back. That taut, tense back with a spinal cord he would trace on his pillow ever since he first saw it. The real Feliks knew all of these things about Toris' body. Where beauty marks were, where his muscles were and weren't, what shape his thighs were. This Feliks got to feel them in real time. He would leave no stone unturned.

There was a commitment now. Whatever Toris wanted to do, they'd do it. Even if it meant he really was to be laid on the floor and eaten right there, that would be what his fate would be.

Toris didn't seem to mind in the slightest. His doppelganger hadn't arrived yet, but there were signs he was creeping around the corner. They had continued kissing...they had for so long now. It was so sweet at first. He'd tailored it that way on purpose. Toris was a suit jacket, meant to be comfortable. Dependable. Slow.

Now he wanted him to be something more. Made of exquisite fabrics in flashy colours, floor length and all-surrounding. His own coat of many colours. If this Feliks was in his room that day being felt and fondled, he wouldn't have cared at all. Funny how just flipping a switch in your brain can make someone completely different.

He hated to use a dumb word like "urgent" or "hot" to describe kissing in his mind. On one hand he was so grossed out by dumb, cliche sex stuff. On the other, he took notes mentally. Where else could he get his virgin sex ideal from? But unlike most romance novels that just threw around words like 'urgent' to describe the typical, straight, wanton lust the couple had, this WAS urgent. The real Feliks, hiding in a corner of his mind, clutching his rosary and praying to every saint he could think of to forgive him, was aware that his doppelganger was now the magnificent Cinderella's carriage, carrying him some place he never thought he would go. He didn't want to become the pumpkin again too soon.

He was no longer trying to claw Toris apart, but instead pressing the two of them together. They were two pecans to be cracked together. Simultaneous exposure and delight was all he wanted. The time was short, he was sure of it even though he didn't know when the countdown timer was set to. There were no objections from the other party. Just a little more. He just knew that Toris' doppelganger was around the corner. They could be carriages together, turn into pumpkins at the same time.

Toris was doing the back pressing too now, just above the clothes. Feliks was aware their chests were together. Really, really aware. That's why he stopped pressing and moved to Toris' rib cage. This was more about covering as much space in as much time as they could before their evening was ruining. The ribs he counted over and over again where in his hands. They felt more brittle than he thought they would. Toris was always very adamant about not playing school sports and maybe this was why. Brittle ribs, weaker lungs, who knew. He remembered this specifically because he made the dumb, boy-in-love mistake of saying 'You have the chest for it, though.' How stupid of him. Toris just laughed.

God, it was true though. Not that he was particularly into that area of the body, but somehow Toris could be a wall-eyed, mute and a blind ginger with ears out to his elbows and he would be interested. He felt it now, having to try a bit harder to do so since he was being pressed so hard into it himself, but that just meant lingering. This was training for when they got married in Aspen and had six dogs and a horse ranch. He would know just what it felt like on their honeymoon after they'd decided to elope and start with a blank slate; none of this ever happened in their minds but his hands would know. Having your cake and eating it too. Feliks was really fond of cake.

Feliks thought about how it wouldn't be that comfortable to put his head on at night but it would be useful for other things like using as a place to keep his glass when he was drinking in bed. Also something to crack hard macadamia nuts with. He could find ways. If anything, the appeal of it was just sheer masculinity. Toris was a man in his eyes, almost a man in the eyes of the world in a few months. That was arousing.

Real!Feliks let out a shriek. Doppelganger!Feliks laughed like he'd just told the best joke in the world.

Where was Doppelganger!Toris to laugh with him?

Toris was slowly giving up with this new development of a forward Feliks. His hands drifted lower. Lower. What choice would they make? They hesitated at the same place Feliks did. Two choices.

He could feel him, literally right there. He could reach him if he tried. It was so close.

The doppelganger Feliks had made had stopped kissing him to stare, waiting to see. Toris head moved to the side. Feliks' could feel his hair tickle his face. If his hands weren't sandwiched in between the two of them, he'd grab it by the fistful. Instead, he circled one part of Toris' chest. He could feel his nipple graze his palm time and time again.

Real!Feliks recoiled even thinking of the word 'nipple' while his doppelganger repeated it over and over. Nipple. Nipple, nipple, nipple. He was touching it. How many victories had he racked up now?

His friend was pressing, pressing so hard, still at Feliks waistline. He wished he could see the look on his face. Was it excited, was it worried? Was it nervous? Confused at his choice? The curiosity was killing him; he had to see the look on his face and laugh and kiss him again. Kiss it better. He pulled their heads apart to lean back and look at him.

The real Feliks knew what that look was. The doppelganger was indifferent. It was guilt.

Regardless of the look, Toris had made his decision. Their choices diverged. Where Feliks had crawled around and thrown his counterpart the last semblance of shame he could, Toris had no such force inside of him. His hands had quickly moved down to his friends thighs and grabbed him, both hands, still pressing.

There it was. There was the doppelganger.


	5. Hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I realized how truly hard it was, really, to see someone you love change right before your eyes. Not only is it scary, it throws your balance off as well.”   
> ― Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

Feliks wasn't hard yet, which almost surprised him. Maybe it was because of the doppelganger. Maybe parts of the body still weren't his, though it seemed odd that of all the parts he would still have it would be that one. His only way to object to this tryst? Taking control of the second brain?

More like third or fourth with all the brains that were going on inside, but still the real Feliks was losing this war, and also losing the one inside that said this was a bad thing at all.

The real Feliks was also unhappy with the sound that came out of his mouth when Toris had grabbed his ass. It wasn't a moan or a breath. More like an awkward and weak kitten had gotten its foot stepped on by a sibling. He refused to use the word 'mewl'. Disgusting.

Their pelvic bones weren't exactly aligned since they had different heights and proportions, but it was close enough to be noticeable. Also noticeable was that Toris wasn't hard yet either. Feliks felt that was about to change, the more he was pushed into Toris. This was new. In all honesty, he thought maybe it would just be a more in depth repeat of their first encounter if there wasn't going to be any immediate floor ravishing. Hands in pants, tugging and pulling until the magic happened. Maybe a little bit more of what Toris tried to do the first time. He couldn't feel anything yet, but he would soon, he was sure of it. The doppelganger, anyway.

The real Feliks had fainted somewhere. Rest in peace. Rest in penis.

His mind back to the action, Toris' doppelganger was continuing his pressing while kissing Feliks. Not on the mouth but all over wherever his head could. The shoulder, the neck, his ear. They weren't long kisses or anything that anyone would usually get aroused by, but the fact that it was Toris alone was enough to be wonderful. Ecstasy itself, by his account. It felt strange, either way, due to the fact that he was mostly kissing hair and Feliks' coat.

At this juncture, the two clones must have had the same thought. Why do we still have all these clothes on?

The awkward sections of their makeout resurfaced. There was an obvious confusion of who took what off of whom and when. Feliks had one hand helping his jacket be shrugged off, which Toris was also helping with, and his other was trying to remove Toris' turtleneck either upwards over his head or just hoping that if he pulled hard enough forward it might just pop off at the side seams like plastic doll clothing. For a few seconds, their arms tangled, frustrated 'oofs' were said, until they finally just decided to do it themselves. Poetry in motion.

Toris was easier since all he had to do was take off one sweater. Feliks was always difficult and this time was no exception.

"Don't break my vest buttons," Real!Feliks pleaded. "They're antique. Ivory. C'mon."

"If it happens, it happens, dude." Doppelganger!Feliks shrugged.

The coat was easy enough to finally get out of and meanwhile Toris was listening into their conversation, the real Feliks was sure of it. Suddenly it was slower. Every button was opened with delicacy. He understood not to hurt the things Feliks found precious. Doppelganger!Toris hadn't learned this yet. He had to be shining through.

As the vest fell to the floor next to the coat, and Feliks began to strip himself of his under sweater, he thought maybe he'd returned to his own body. That the clones had ceased being. They were just themselves, just versions of themselves half naked in Toris' kitchen. He wanted to laugh and quip about how wow, that sure was crazy huh? Toris would laugh nervously, avert his eyes while picking up their clothes and offer to fetch Feliks the lint roller.

He looked out from under the hood of it, though, as it was pulled over his head, making his hair frizzy, and he knew that he wasn't in control. The urge he had to completely swallow Toris whole couldn't be his own. His chaste feelings of virginal arousal were nothing compared to these feelings. This was what lust felt like. The doppelganger was still there. Something about being shirtless at the same time, which wasn't even something new, while simultaneously knowing exactly what he was staring at felt like to actually touch made him want to cry. He wanted it. So badly it made his throat close for a moment. The real Feliks could never feel things like this. He knew what longing felt like but it was a different kind. The longing he knew about was so much more simple in maturity but yet so pitiful and painful. Please like me. Please look at me like that. Please whisper to me sweet words. Please only do things like that with me. Please just notice me like I know you notice girls.

He definitely couldn't feel like this. It had to be the doppelganger. Neither of them knew what to do next.

Toris and his duplicate couldn't figure it out either, he guessed, as they both just kind of stood there getting cold for a second.

Well, Feliks actually knew what he wanted to do. But he wanted it all at once. What were the right steps to take? Where to begin? Part of him wanted to be held (the real part) and the other part wanted him to be disgustingly absorbed (the doppelganger part). He also found that are certain moments, practically milliseconds, that these two things could coincide like some symbiotic amoeba process.

Back in reality, Feliks knew his face felt hot and rubbed it. Embarrassed to be standing there so long, as they both were just awkwardly shirtless, he knew that he must have turned some color. His eyes also couldn't focus on one place for very long. There was the ground which had the discarded clothing: embarrassing. There was Toris' face which was turned to the side slightly, eyes also darting around: embarrassing (but cute). There was Toris' chest: no comment. Anywhere else couldn't hold his attention long but these three options were only making things worse.

"Should we...? I mean, do you want- If you still want." Toris garbled out as if his tongue was trying to sail out of his mouth and away from the disaster area.

Feliks felt himself nod slowly, though it was against his better judgement. Or was it? He couldn't even tell which was the real him anymore. Did both hims want it? Just one?

The fact that life felt more and more like a series of essay-only test questions was getting very, very old.

If it had been up to him, either of him, then they probably would have stood awkwardly for the rest of the night until Toris' father came home, confused as to why they were both shirtless and awkwardly looking at a coffee pot. It wasn't much of an instigation but Toris was at least doing something again. It was a slow and clammy hand that touched his friends chest and it wasn't in a way that was very purposeful. More like he was reaching out to grab something off of a grocery shelf to look at the nutrition label. So casual and without much thought.

"I've touched your chest before," he awkwardly stammered. "But this is weird."

"Excuse me for being weird." Feliks retorted, surprised at his still-present ability to talk back.

"No, not your chest. Just, uh. This..." His hand lingered in the center where his fingers had just simply grazed him. Feliks was aware that they had touched each other's chests before. He had always found it really strange how boys, straight and gay or whatever else alike, shared so much skinship in natural settings. In eighth grade he'd had to have it explained to him, by Toris himself, that it wasn't anything flirty when a guy slapped another guy on the ass in most situations. In fact, Feliks recalled, he'd been in multiple situations where he could have actually seen his friend naked, fully naked in fact, but didn't want to because that was kind of weird and not invited. If someone looked at him naked like that he would have screamed and hidden in a hole for years.

Unless the person in question was Toris who might even seen him naked in a few minutes.

He did understand what Toris meant by weird, though. It WAS weird. Everything was weird, so weird, and Toris had made it that way.

"I'll try to do it better, I guess." Toris mumbled to himself, maybe unknowingly and put both of his hands there while Feliks continued to stand still. When the second hand touched him it was almost like he had received Midas' touch; frozen solid in a statue of gold. Even his blood vessels felt like they had halted for a fraction of a second. Toris' hands were moving and he was sure it was the real one. He felt that Toris was doing what he was trying to do and thinking of which was mimicking what he'd seen somewhere else. His hands had moved to under neath Feliks' arms; right in the places where you'd pick up a baby and in the same position, almost the same firmness. Instead of lifting, Toris ran his hands down his friends frame, face watching them move. His thumbs grazed Feliks nipples on the way down and he felt a small jolt. He'd always wondered what was so great about useless and ugly, old nipples. He thought he might have found out. The trip down Feliks' body wasn't a slow one by any means and his hands stopped at the same fork in the road as they had before.

It felt so much better, Feliks thought, when it was just them doing all the work and not the slutty, gross clones lingering around. They were probably laughing together somewhere at how dumb and slow these other two were, miles past this step in their own minds. They could stay there for all Feliks cared.

Toris didn't decide to go any lower this time and used his hand position and location to pull Feliks in a little and the other boy shuffled forward, a bit expectant. The entire time this had been going on he was a little lost as to what would happen next. It was a bit thrilling, he thought, to not know what was going to happen. To be instigated upon and not have to do the work.

Their navels touched and it felt good. Not in a sexy way but just in a skinship way. A more intimate way. Feliks hung his head before he smiled a little bit , hoping his hair hid it.

"Is this, uhm. Better....then, I guess?" Toris asked, not moving his hands. Crap, he'd been caught.

"Yeah." Feliks tried to be casual. "You know. For next time you try to blindside me."

Toris frowned a little, Feliks say, as he looked up with his goofy grin on. When Toris knew he was being observed his face changed tone, obviously a little forced.

"I thought that was what we were doing now?"

"No. See, I blindsided YOU. There's a big difference. I'm better at it." Feliks was actually liking they could just stand there and hold each other, which Feliks was now doing to his friend again, shirtless. Joking about how they were sexually incompetent. Just like a couple, he thought. This WAS getting somewhere.

"I think I got more done." Toris chided and his voice almost seemed proud.

Feliks didn't know what to say to that as his memory was clouded again with the sensation of release and his friend bringing him to it. Why did he have to ruin this moment? Why did he have to make his longing for more come back?

Feliks had placed his hands on his friend's back again, just like they'd been before. Again this odd sensation of wanting to prove himself came forward. He could get it done, he thought. Why was it that he, who knew all about love and true loving sensuality, was the one who was losing here? What could he do that was impressive? That could kill a hundred birds with one stone? How many objectives had he come up with: proving his ability to love, that Toris could love him, that they could actually be happy. He could do that. All of that. He was sure of it. All Feliks had to do was make up a new set of rules so that he could win.

They were close again so Feliks went in for a more hugging embrace since they were in the position for one. He'd thought of something that was sensually romantic; something he'd actually thought he'd like done to him and that made him realize that was the key to winning both the battle and Toris: what he wanted done to himself was always slow and romantic and sensitive. So, in theory, if he did those things then he would have gotten what he wanted (sort of) and showed Toris that they could actually do things right. He would do those things with you and do them the right way.

It wasn't hard to lean a bit from where his head was, neck resting on Toris' shoulder, to kiss his skin very softly. He didn't make any noises, just pressed his lips to it once or twice. Toris' response wasn't noticeable without looking at his face but he continued. What he had kissed was his collarbone, the broken one. He'd fell down a set of stairs when he was little and snapped it. Toris had mentioned this story before but hadn't specified which one, left or right, but Feliks knew. He'd looked at them enough. One went straight across and was profound while the other was a bit more sunk in. The left one.

Next to it was the shoulder. He kissed the top of it. Toris didn't move his hands or his muscles. Not even his throat could be felt. Maybe this wasn't working? Maybe he looked like a fool. Toris would laugh and be unable to believe that this was something people thought might be enjoyable but oh, Lord above, did he think he would find it enjoyable. In his heart, kisses were what told you that you loved them. More than sex, more than presents. He would give up sex for a lifetime and a gift a year to just be kissed. Kissed all over. It wasn't innocent but it wasn't sultry. It was like leaving little sticky notes on someone's body. "I love you here." "I love you here." "I love you here."

He rolled his head to the other side, casting a glance upward and liked what he saw. Toris had closed his eyes and rested himself quite nicely into a relaxed position on the counter where he was leaning. This was a good thing. It had to be.

Feliks signed another sticky note and placed it on the valley that rested between his shoulder and his neck, all the while looking up. His hair got in the way, Toris' hair got in the way, but he could still see that his eyes were closed. He could do this forever, he thought. He liked to give these and he wanted to receive them. If they could rip a hole in the fabric of space and just be trapped in an endless loop of body kisses then he would be happy forever.

He pressed his lips all around Toris' neck before going up the side, pressing just as hard as it took to make sure that ever part of his lips touched. They weren't thin but they weren't thick either, but he knew they were soft. Feliks hated dry lips which had nothing to do with kissing or boys or anything like that. Regardless, it seemed to come in handy.

He left his notes on Toris' chin, lifting his head to face his friend again. After he left one on Toris' cheek he had a sudden thought that maybe this was what happened when you ranked up in kissing. He'd finally reached a new level and he was pretty good. Who would have thought. Maybe he really could get a PhD in kissology after all.

It surprised him, though, that when he got too close he got bitten. Like he was waiting for it, thinking about it all the time in his head, he himself was kissed on the mouth. Toris wasn't moving or using his tongue. Just a lip kiss.

It seemed too that anytime Toris did anything that Feliks felt that surge he would feel in his stomach and everywhere else that maybe kissing was laughable and they could do other things. Toris really was bad at this because he kept ruining Feliks plans at ever turn.

Feliks was aware again that their chests were touching, though this time bare. He was also aware that, as he predicted, he felt his abdomen tense up in preparation. Instead of worrying about the fact that he was about to be hard at all, he was actually glad in a way. That wasn't after they were pawing at each other like animals, which was almost surprising to him now. He felt excited because of something as simple as kissing.

Feliks knew that other people thought that was laughable when he'd overheard in gym a few boys talking about sex on bleacher day. They'd been sitting around in a triangle shape and his ear had caught onto their conversation. One of the boys was talking about going out with his girlfriend and how they were making out. He'd gotten hard and had a bit of an accident. One of the others started to explode into giggles, screaming at the top of his lungs about how his friend had to be a bigger pussy than the one his girlfriend had. Whatever, Feliks thought. Kissing was great. Making a mess wasn't, but if he had to make a mess then he would prefer it be about something like kissing and not being almost-forcibly groped to climax.

The thing Feliks had also found about having an erection while someone else was involved was that the muscles in his lower areas seemed to sometimes have a bit of a continental drift and create their own collective conscious thought. When Toris had gotten him off that day, he remembered that he would unconsciously push his penis into Toris' hand as much as possible. He never once thought that that would be a great thing to do. It just happened.

It was beyond help now, he gulped into their long kiss, since he could really feel it now. There was a bit of disappointment and fear in that he got excited first and would that also mean he'd cum again without Toris even getting close? Also, if Toris' dad walked in on them and they somehow managed to convince him it was somehow too hot in early December to wear clothing, his noticeable erection would probably blow that lie out of the water.

Toris sensed this tension, he guessed, since he broke the kiss and opened his eyes.

"I think you are better at that, maybe." There was that awkward, laughing tone in his voice again, Feliks thought. "But do you want to stop...?"

He must have unconsciously looked down or something because that's where Toris eyes went which made Feliks instinctively try to shift on his feet. He wasn't a pro at hiding it, however, so it was immediately obvious.

"Oh." Toris drummed his fingers that were still placed on Feliks' upper abdomen. "I guess that's a no, then?"

Was that necessary to say?


	6. Skinship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When I saw you, I saw love. When I saw you naked, I saw lust. When I saw you with my clone in a dream, I saw the future."  
> \- Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not FOR SALE

Suddenly all that thinking about how being aroused by kissing and how it wasn't shameful brought down the biggest cloud of disgust and embarrassment to Feliks' face.

Toris immediately took notice.

"It's not like it's a bad thing!" He immediately removed his hands to wave them in denial. "I mean...I don't really have a lot of room to talk. Or judge."

Feliks felt like he could cry at the drop of a pin. He wondered if his eyes were welling up or if it was just the feeling in his abdomen and thighs making his nasal passages pinch.

"It's okay, I mean. Really. It was kind of. Inevitable." Toris shrugged. "I was sort of waiting for it to happen anyway."

At the last sentence, Feliks felt his spirit perk up. What exactly did that mean? He couldn't ask. He'd be revealing too much, as if kissing mental 'I love you.'s into his skin wasn't proof enough.

"Just, uhm." Toris was doing a lot of uhming. Feliks just stood with his hands planted firmly on his friend's back. "Tell me if you don't want to."

Feliks was in a state of confusion on whether he did or didn't want to but sort of understood that he wasn't expected to answer right away. Toris had replaced his hands except they were being a little more reactionary this time around. They were still their awkward and unsure selves, no doppelgangers in sight, but Toris' was probably rumbling close by. His fingers were in the waistband of Feliks pants, or at least wiggling into them as best they could. One slid along the side to the front, almost expertly popping open his fly's button. Where did he learn how to do that? Suspicious.

"I should, uh." Feliks felt the words tumble out from a place deep in his brain. Toris' hands stopped and he looked at his friend with widened eyes.

"Yeah, if you don't want to, it's fine."

"No." Feliks said with quite a bit of force. He wondered where those words came from. He didn't want to leave and was actually still kind of confused about wanting to stop or not. He didn't want to go maybe if by chance they could just kiss some more and figure it all out in the morning; he had the patience to wait that long. What had he meant. His hands were sliding down Toris' back, he realized. Not slowly, but quickly. Maybe his groin's new collective consciousness had taken over his arms too.

That's when he realized what he had been thinking, or more likely, what his doppelganger had typed into his mental computer before being shoved away from the keyboard by his conscious. "I should help you too."

There came to be another mental conundrum within that second of time before he acted again. Feliks' brain weighed the options. There was actually something good going on here. They were being gentle. Romantic, even, given the situation. Things weren't perfect and he was a little psuedo-numb to the idea that Toris was about to be touching his penis again for a myriad of reasons. But if they did what they'd done before, just with more romance and effort involved...was that bad? Was that wholly something to feel negatively about? It wasn't the driver and it wasn't the hosiery and the bed and the loft in Switzerland with a ranch and alpine property but it also wasn't roughly being jerked off and being told not to worry about it. There was more kindness, less foot-in-mouth thoughtlessness. Was that truly gross? Was it slutty to do something like this as long as these was a sense of understanding friendliness involved?

Feliks answered himself a second later by mimicking Toris' movements, moving and adjusting his hands. He'd flip flopped so many times and fallen in and out of his body's consciousness, all over making out. He'd told himself he'd had a good thing earlier, to just enjoy what he was getting. This was what he really enjoyed. Kissing lovingly without making strange sounds and ass-grabbing.

But...was it? What was that little sound that was starting up again trying to do to him? Maybe it was like an angel and a devil on his shoulder, telling him to do this and that. Which one should he listen to? He knew the angel, always the angel, but...what exactly was the angel saying? Because from inside his mind, they all sounded like one voice and they all sounded like his.

Toris had gone on in spite of Feliks pausing again which shocked him out of his mental war. His penis wasn't at a state of being fully erect and hard but it was definitely trying and probably would be soon since his zipper was undone and Toris had was touching it over the cloth of the boxers he'd worn today. They were the kind with the slit in the front but more fitted than most so he could feel Toris' hand both on him through the fabric and where a little sliver of skin had shown through.

"I don't really know how to do this. 'Better'." Toris tried to whisper but it came out as more of a croak. He cleared his throat before squirming his hand around a bit, trying to figure out the best way to grab or massage it. If he had sounded confident at all alluding to how he'd made Feliks cum before, all of that emotion was gone.

Feliks mindlessly followed Toris lead, feeling a little shaky since the movements weren't fluid to him. He had to open the button with two hands instead of just his thumb and got the zipper stuck on Toris' boxers but his friend was patient. Maybe he'd had the idea that this needed to match too.

"Uhm." Feliks' voice was just as hoarse and throaty. "I'm not an expert."

"Well, we did it once, so..." Toris trailed off. Feliks brain sent out a flashing message of 'No, YOU did it once.' but it didn't leave his mouth.

"Yeah. So. Not rocket science." Feliks joked while slipping his hand into Toris slacks.

It was gratifying, he thought, and the verdict was in. Officially. Regardless of whether he thought it was gross, morally corrupt, slutty, or any other describer, he never thought before the last few weeks that he would realistically ever actually be in any position to make Toris feel good. Maybe that deep down should have been what he really wanted. If Toris wanted to feel good then he should let him feel good. If this is what it took then this was what it took.

When he'd grabbed Toris penis the first time this had happened, it was almost like a foreign object in his hand. Toris' erection technically was but it was more like he was holding onto something that he had no idea what it was. There was a game show he saw a couple times where people stuck their hands in jars and boxes in the dark and had to guess what the things they touched were. If he was on and inside the box was Toris' penis, on that day he would have had no idea. The shell shock was too great.

This time, though, they were being slow. This was agreed upon; he'd signed that check and cashed it as far as he was concerned. He thought this over the laugh of his doppelganger who he knew was about to come back out; Feliks was ready to be over and done with this struggle between chastity and seduction. This time he could really feel it. He could probably shape a complete replica of Toris out of clay with his hands and general knowledge but the groin would be pretty much a mystery, a large lump left untouched. Now he could complete the statue.

Toris' penis wasn't big but it wasn't small either, at least compared to his own. As he slid his hand straight through the gap in his boxes and touched it, he knew it was veiny. Not that it was covered in them but there were several large ones that he could feel even though he was pretty much flaccid. As he touched it he felt it stiffen a bit which sent a rush through his own thighs and abdomen again. It was also partially due to the fact that Toris had now taken the plunge and done the same thing.

Feliks wasn't ashamed that he wasn't well endowed and didn't have a lot of feelings about having a smaller penis. He had decided long ago that he wasn't really going to do much with it except pee and maybe one day get enough semen out to turkey baste into a chosen female so he and Toris could have the two kids he'd begged and pleaded for while they were summering in Antigua. In fact, instead of some foreign rush of shame and disgrace over his smaller penis, Feliks actually found it kind of arousing that Toris could hold it so completely. It felt safe, somehow, if he could describe the way his penis was held as safe at all.

He tried to adjust his hand to measure Toris' with his knuckle using the one inch rule. One knuckle, two knuckles, three knuckles, four knuckles. He stopped there, wondering why he cared other than for his Toris fact file. If given a ruler and measuring tape and Toris knocked out but agreeing, he'd probably diagram it just to store the information in his brain. Just knowing about Toris more romantically inclined regions wasn't embarrassing to him. He knew just by looking that one of Toris' butt cheeks was lopsided and he had accidentally seen that at least one had a dimple and that wasn't exhilarating or so shameful to him. Something about the penis made him a bit more airy headed. Maybe it was because that specific organ was so much more absolute.

It also occurred to him a little late that Toris was also hairless. In his case this wasn't a surprise since any excess or unnecessary body hair (all of it) was removed. He wondered why he could feel the prickles of day-old hairs coming in although he didn't mind it. He liked that more than what could have been there or perhaps even should have been.

Toris' thumb was rubbing his penis' head, which wasn't as pronounced as he could feel Toris' was now. In holding Toris and feeling his own body reacting, he was definitely hard now, and Toris was getting harder as Feliks went over him while taking mental notes. The purpose was to figure out how to do this correctly which was as equally important as mapping out Toris completely. He still hadn't lost sight of his goal of not only making Toris feel good but also making him realize that this should be something he could get in a relationship; a relationship with HIM. That was how he was thinking of it even if it felt a little salty on his tongue. This was the sample platter that made you want to buy the whole thing.

The rubbing felt good even if it was slow and a bit cold, and that went for both his own decided upon massaging and Toris' fondling. Feliks felt breathy, nowhere near a climax but his erection was starting to actually feel good and not just like it was there. Toris was hard in his hands and he tried to trace one of the veins with a finger. It started at the base and ran all the way up his shaft, finally stopping right before the head. He grabbed the entire thing this time, feeling all of the bumps and ridges in his palm as he gently moved it up and down. Just like his lips, he knew his hands were soft and he hoped Toris took notice of details like this just like he did.

Actually, Toris was being a bit more vocal than he was this go around. He kept whispering mumbled words, almost like they were in some foreign language while they stood there with one hand in each other's pants and another at each other's side. Toris' other had was the first to move and its place surprised Feliks even though it had been there before. Neither of them seemed to be cloned before now but Feliks knew that the regular Toris had left him at that moment. The hand was already half way into his pants and it pulled him a little bit closer as it traveled down the opposite direction the other hand had gone, seamlessly gliding almost on Feliks' soft skin. It seemed so professional, Feliks thought, even though it felt gross to call Toris' hand groping his ass 'professional'. But it did seem a bit experienced or expertly done. It grabbed at the left side first which caused Feliks to indirectly move in a way he knew he shouldn't have. Toris' doppelganger might have come out but he was glad his was staying away, though he didn't know for how much longer. With the sudden fondling, it may not be that long, he thought.

The hand couldn't figure out how to accurately hold both sides at one so it stuck to just lingering in the middle, occasionally grabbing hard while his other occupied hand had taken up the task of stroking Feliks' erection rather quickly and with rough and coarse motions. Again, Feliks was unsure whether he should be mad at himself for liking that feeling or not but continued at his own task; he felt like the lusty side of him was definitely taking over. Flashes of thoughts appeared in his mind before they were replaced with a nerve synapse here and there of flashing blue pleasure. He would think of one bad thing or try to say a prayer to himself and a snap of light would erase it and instead divert his attention to the fact that this felt good. Better than it did the first time. That was a success in and of itself.

Feliks didn't know what to do with his other hand but looked up at his friend to test the waters. He knew his mouth had to be open so he reached up to brush his face with the back of his hand while examining Toris' face. His eyes weren't looking at him but instead were angled down; they weren't closed or open but his eyelids hung a little more than usual for being narrowed. It was an expression that was a cross between a loss of focus and arousal.

Trying to be casual but also subtly romantic, failing at both, Feliks' hand instinctively pushed Toris' to face his and made him look at him. That, he could say with surety, was definitely exciting him and he barely stopped the sound in his throat before it made it out of his mouth. Toris blinked at him, eyes back in focus and his motions slowing slightly while Feliks continued his own erratic rubbings. Feliks knew what the urge to kiss someone felt like as he'd felt it many times before and this was definitely what was rising in his mind. Kiss him over and over. Make him feel as good as you've always wanted him to make you feel.

Kissing like that, like how he knew his mouth was kissing Toris, signaled the coming of the doppelganger. Feliks wondered how he could be the one to have started jerking Toris off but the doppelganger came out in a kiss of all things, but the two clones had reunited and the world became frenzied once more.

The next few steps Feliks could only recall in flashes.

He remembered that somehow he had gotten his pants off. He wasn't sure if it was he who did it or the person who had placed his hand all around and inside of them but they were gone. His boxers remained but they weren't much use. The backs of them were pulled down to a very revealing degree and his penis lay outside of the hole as much as it could. It was still being massaged and he liked that.

The next thing he could remember was that they were lower on the ground, neither of them standing up any longer. Toris was on the ground completely, sitting against the kitchen cabinets with his legs spread slightly and askew. His pants were actually half way off, underwear too. Feliks was half-straddling him and he'd stopped stroking Toris' erection which was laying against his abdomen, completely unattended for a moment. There was a hand on his own, pulling. Not just trying to rub it or tease it but instead it was more of an actual tug trying to pull it towards something. It hurt slightly but wasn't dis-pleasurable at that point.

It had to have culminated in the next memory which was scandalous to Feliks even years later. Feliks' hands were on Toris' chest again and his friend's were on his back doing that pressing like they were before this naked mess. Instead of their hands touching each other, their own erections were doing the jobs for them.

Feliks thought he must have actually known about this more because as soon as that had happened it was like the tide had ebbed again, subsiding into awkward looks and movements that felt more giddy than good. He closed his eyes and tried to feel as much as possible what it was like to touch his penis against another one. It wasn't bad, he thought. He preferred a hand but it wasn't bad.

That was just touching, though, as there became a sliding motion underneath him that made him lose his balance and he barely kept himself from falling forward. At the same time, the rubbing sensation returned. Toris had purposefully shifted himself while on the ground to do this, he realized, which was the point of this in the first place.

"It's kind of weird." Toris said, returning to where he was and sliding his own erection back up Feliks'. He could feel the lip of the head more than anything and one of the thick veins pass over his own smoother sides.

Sexual things on television were usually loud, Feliks remembered, with a lot of groaning and unfs and oohs and ahhs and oh, yes, right theres. He'd made a few sounds himself with some gasping noises, a few squeaking sounds he had more pride than to admit to. Toris was more about words than animalistic noises. The sensation of their continued frottage, though, made him feel more and more like he had an air bubble filled with onomatopoeia in his throat that could be popped with a pin and the sounds would spill out. He was long past thinking of his eternal soul or dreams of virginal love making because it just felt so good to press into with a little bit of gasping 'ah's now and again that there wasn't room for much else in his mind.

The feeling of having his lower half disconnected from his body was still in full force as it was doing most of the work. Feliks had found that once he was erect that there seemed to be something innate that made him want to thrust into something. There was probably some male biological reason for that having to do with procreation, Adam and Eve, or evolution but he was not complaining about it for now because it was doing him more good than harm. The movements were still awkward and their penises would slide off of each other or miss quite often but when he pressed into Toris' chest with his hands and they hit each other just right then those tiny little synapsing nerves would trigger and he couldn't help but want to press harder.

The other thing that actually felt good about this experience was that he was lasting longer; the whole experience had taken a lot longer than the probably three or five minute exchange they'd had previously where he'd came so quickly. This was definitely more prolonged and maybe it was because he WAS enjoying it and not just because he was being physically manipulated. Maybe it was because they weren't doing as much quick work and it was still kind of slow and steady going. Both of them seemed to like it better.

"Feliks." Toris said his name and he could feel like the floodgates were going to start to open. Also, Feliks was inexperienced but he knew what that tiny cracking sound meant in Toris' voice. "Here, just." was all he could get out before just taking his own initiative. One of the hands that was still on Feliks' back was removed to grab one of his friend's hands off of his own body and placed it where their penises lay dormant but touching for the moment. His fingers guided the other's to part clumsily and to grab the almost conjoined pair of hard organs and asked next for his wrist to move. Feliks couldn't completely grab both of them together but he tried and did just as he was doing before when only having to deal with one.

He had enough left in him to wonder if it was masturbation if it was touching yourself AND someone else.

Penises didn't feel wet, exactly, more like clammy hands that were sweating a little which made it a little difficult to keep up rubbing and gripping them but he didn't have to for very long. He knew he felt close himself as he felt Toris hand that was still on his back press into him hard enough to feel the hollow of his palm on his skin. He'd gone stiff in his hand and he felt the liquid before he saw it since most of the time he'd spent examining Toris' face in glances, looking for any hints of love or intimacy in his eyes and facial features. He also asked what the heck that was before he looked down and knew; felt silly for wondering at all.

This time, Toris had cum first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this on a phone and it won't let me edit so I'll clean this up when I'm at a computer. Also I've never written smut or purple prose so I hope this is acceptable...


	7. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “One day you fall for this boy. And he touches you with his fingers. And he burns holes in your skin with his mouth. And it hurts when you look at him. And it hurts when you don’t. And it feels like someone’s cut you open with a jagged piece of glass."  
> \- Maureen Madved, The Tracey Fragments

After that any sense of sensuality left seemed to vanish from the room. Toris lay back for a second and Feliks could feel his heart beat fast through his chest, almost as strongly as the blood sloshing around in his ears. About thirty seconds later Toris mumbled something and used the hand that had been guiding his friend to touch him to finish Feliks who came quickly afterwards. He somehow felt the same embarrassment as before even if he wasn't early or bad at it.

They cleaned up in silence and Feliks understood, as he put on his pants again having just taken a wet paper towel offered by Toris to clean up his own mess, what they meant when they said that something 'smelled like sex'. It did have a kind of strange smell to it, Feliks secretly thought while turned around, holding up the paper towel. He didn't think it would make that big of a deal but it actually did. The smell was sort of salty but also sort of like mold, he thought, or at least that's what his brain processed it to be. He didn't feel sweaty but he could smell that too.

He assumed Toris thought the same thing since once he was done, the air got a fresh dose of Lysol, leaving a thick and hospital-like aroma where there used to be sweat and semen. Feliks cataloged to himself that he now knew what exactly that smelled like, never really having any sort of curiosity to smell it before. He had no urge to smell it again.

Toris sat down and stared blankly at the wall while Feliks knew that his mind was about to burst with all these things to think about, to cry about, to abuse himself over for days and days. He didn't know what to do so he just stood around awkwardly while looking at his friend's face. The expression on it wasn't pained or negative. More like it was...numb. Numb was a toss up, Feliks decided, which wasn't winning but it wasn't losing.

Numb could mean he hated himself but was too emotionally fragile or vacant to feel it yet.

Numb could mean that he was wrestling with self discovery and couldn't yet face his own truth.

Feliks stood there for twenty minutes more; their kissing and frotting session had taken up about the same amount of time altogether. They both jumped when they heard the door open and Toris' dad come in the house. Feliks wasn't a stranger to the man but when he saw his face pop into the room, he felt a grave sense of shame creep into his body, banging at the doors of his mind to burst.

"What are you two doing in here all alone for?" He smiled, just asking a simply and probably rhetorical question but it still made Feliks throat feel thick.

"Nothing really," Toris face morphed from one of blankness to a welcoming smile. "Just talking."

"Did you make dinner? I ate on the way back so if you did-"

"No, it's fine. I'm not really hungry."

"Alright, suit yourself. That one'll want something though." He jabbed a thumb at Feliks before leaving the room to disappear upstairs.

"Do you?" Toris asked, looking back at his friend with an expression of normal questioning.

"N..."

Feliks could get that out before he realized something that he should have known as a truth before all of this had happened. He should have been truly prepared for it when he had shown up and kissed his best friend and put his hand in his pants and felt his dick shift against his fingers, he thought angrily. He had such advanced visions of grandeur and had settled himself into this scheme of creating an in. An in to a fantasy life which was more of a fallacy than anything else. They'd just done the same thing again. Had sex, if it even counted as sex, and then everything was supposed to be okay and he'd initiated it this time. Feliks had set himself up to fall into a huge fucking hole in the ground, not into anyone's arms.

"I'll just get something on the way home too." He finally shrugged. If Toris was going to act, two could play that game. They exchanged goodbyes and Feliks walked out of the door, still keeping stride. He could do this all night, he thought. All year. The rest of his life.

His face and body betrayed him as he took a step, though, because as soon as his foot touched the ground he ran. He ran home as fast as he could, running across an intersection without even pressing the pedestrian button; he faintly recalled a loud horn honking but didn't care as long as he wasn't hit. He didn't like running, he hated it, but Feliks ran as fast as he could.

When he got to his stoop he really could smell the sweat now and he could still get hold of the faint musky aroma in his nose that made him choke up. He unlocked his door, knowing his parents weren't there, and tumbled up the stairs.

When he got to his room, he cried.


	8. Benefits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Sex is the consolation you have when you can't have love."  
> ― Gabriel García Márquez

It was almost Christmas, which wasn't actually that late after, when Toris next called Feliks. He'd abstained from calling his friend because while he was a chatterbox, anytime he opened his mouth all he could think of saying was something to do with that night. Either of them. It was inevitable he would somehow make a joke about it or think about it in conversation and suddenly his whole mental capacity would be shattered again.

Feliks was very used to not being very serious when it came to talking about his emotions but there was only so much he could take before he popped.

When he saw the name and picture flash on his phone's screen, he hesitated. Why would he be calling? Would it be to talk about something asinine? To discuss what had happened? Either way it seemed like a bad idea. Not talking seemed worse, on the other hand. It would be like sending a red flag that he was distraught if he avoided him forever. They had school in January too. Plus, he did want to talk to him. He missed Toris' voice on the phone or in person or anywhere.

And yet he thought of hearing it and it could only come with coupled recollections of sights, sounds, and smells of promiscuity.

But still, he answered.

"Yo."

"Oh, hey." Toris answered, quite plainly.

"What's up?" Feliks asked, trying to stifle the phantom memory of feeling the person on the other end of the line's semen trickling down his hand.

"Well, not really anything. Well. No. A lot of things."

"Huh." Feliks grunted into the phone. He was lying in bed, trying to squeeze in at least some homework time during the break. It was the only thing occupying his mind lately that wasn't either disgusting or flighty. This conversation was giving him a little bit of déjà vu; it gave him a minute amount of pleasure to hear Toris be in the same position he was once.

"I wanted to come over to your house to talk but, uh. I don't know how well that would go first." The voice was shaky and nervous but that wasn't anything new to make Feliks concerned. What he knew in his gut the subject matter would be? That was killing him.

"Oh. Uh-huh." His verbiage was limited to sounds.

"I guess I just wanted to talk to you though. A real talk. Which I think is actually really important."

"Def."

"But it seems kind of...disconnected talking about it on the phone?"

"Sure."

"Are you paying attention, Feliks? I do think this is important."

"Yes, I'm listening." Feliks felt testy, suddenly. "Come over if you want to come over or don't if you don't. I don't care just pick one, okay?"

"Alright," Toris sounded like he'd been punched in the throat. "I'll. Uhm. Be there soon, I guess."

After hanging up, Feliks rolled over and groaned audibly. His mother and father were out again, as was usually what happened during the busy season for big shots that were swamped with holiday commands. He'd probably spend the next day, Christmas Eve, alone which was okay as of now. Today would probably leave him a mess straight through New Year’s.

He still found it in himself to tidy up and get dressed even though his heart was pounding and his knees felt like they might fall out from under him at any second. He'd been unable to get changed for the whole time they'd kept out of contact without thinking of taking of his clothes and touching bare skin together. He wondered if everyone felt like this after their first time; completely unable to shake it and everything could be associated with it. Feliks reminded himself if he was going to be accurate, it was his second or he hadn't even had a first time if he counted going all the way as the only way. It sucked majorly, either way. His kitchen was his second favourite room in the house but he couldn't go in there without feeling his knees on the linoleum of Toris' floor, touching each other in however many lusty ways.

Every minute brought back a new memory in random order. He wasn't aroused by them. More like discouraged.

The knocking at the door made him jump from his new place on the couch, trying to appear to be casually watching the news. He felt unable to get up which would have been a great thing if Toris didn't know to just let himself in.

"Feliks?" He shouted, stepping inside. He could hear him from down the hallway.

"Uh-" Feliks stammered before he finally shouted. "Living room."

Toris entered the room in a few seconds after he'd taken off his jacket and hung it up, judging by the sounds Feliks strained to hear in the corridor opposite the room. He dared to look at his friend whose face was red from walking in such winter weather, hair still holding a few stray flakes of frost.

"Hello." He breathed, enjoying the fresh and warm air.

"Hey," Feliks covered himself up with a throw blanket, diverting his attention back to the channel he'd turned the TV on to. Damn, it was whatever station showed the NASDAQ. His mother was probably home for a second last night. His cover of not being bothered was blown.

"Got some stocks you're interested in?" Why was Toris so wishy-washy on when to be perceptive?

"Yeah." Feliks lied, obviously. "Buy, buy, buy, sell, sell, sell. Same old, same old."

"Sure," Toris chuckled. Feliks could slap him for being so vague and ominous on the phone while still retaining the ability to sit across from him on the couch and laugh at the things he said.

The pair sat there for a bit. Feliks was making sure not to take his eyes away from the scrolling numbers and letters; he understood none of them. Toris relaxed while fending off frostbite.

Before long, his guest decided to break the silence and get to the point.

"Feliks, I think we need to talk?" It was definitely a question, not a demand. Toris was bad at being demanding.

"What about?" Feliks gnawed at a piece of gum he'd been chewing for most of the afternoon, crushing it between his molars as a means of channeling his emotions.

"I think you know...don't you?" Toris seemed to think that maybe Feliks was that daft.

"Did someone die or something? Do you have, like, a twin?"

"Feliks, I mean the-"

"I'm just joking, dude, I know what you mean." Feliks rolled his eyes. When he felt down or depressed, he was either sulky or snippy. He felt the latter today.

"Oh, good." Toris sighed, seemingly relieved.

'How could I not?' Feliks wanted to blurt that out. 'You came into my house and manhandled me and then I somehow got swept up in some dumb fantasy land where you could actually like me and all I did was make myself look like a stupid, sex starved twink that would lap you up like milk before respecting myself because I guess that's just what I am now. How do I forget that? Tell me, cuz I'd really like to.'

Feliks flushed at that, thinking words and phrases he'd never dare say out loud and that he forgot he even knew, all in anger and frustration. Mostly at himself. Even in softer dialogue that sounded more like his usual self, he couldn't deny it. It was pretty much the truth.

"I think we can agree that we, uh. Need boundaries. And to decide what that all was. Can we talk seriously?" Feliks didn't like it when Toris entered into a mode that he called, in his head, Mom College Professor. He would be very considerate and thoughtful while trying to sound thought provoking so they could have a 'dialogue' or something. It was usually when he knew Feliks was hiding something or he was trying to help him through his science labs.

"Dude," Feliks finally couldn't help it anymore. "If someone needs to talk about boundaries then it's definitely not me."

"Why do you say that?" God, that lowered eyebrow, the concerned expression.

"Because who started all this. Me? Nope. You did. So. Boundary yourself." Feliks drew a square in the air, looking at his friend with an agitated stare.

"That's true." Toris nodded, voice patient and still. It was almost irksome. "But I never really thought it would, uh. Happen again. And you did it that time."

That was true. Feliks couldn't really explain that truthfully without baring all. At this point, he didn't want any more hurt than he was already wrestling with.

"Yeah, well. I did. So?" Feliks shrugged, trying to get rid of an imaginary scarf or jacket that was becoming too cumbersome.

"Well, that's what I'm talking about. It's just...I've been thinking a lot. A lot. About all of this. And I just. Want to know what to really think about this. If that' makes sense. I don't know if I put in the right amount of 'thinks'." Feliks could feel a bit of sympathy for his friend who was getting thoughts out in choppy and shakily said sentences. He wanted to know the same thing but he also didn't want to succumb to certain answers. "Once I can sort of see it as...something that just happens. But twice and it seems sort of like we should talk about it."

"Yeah, okay." Feliks felt softened suddenly. Maybe this was actually the thing he was waiting for. They could talk this out, realize that this random and sinful lust was actually their true hearts calling out to each other and live happily ever after. The fantasy land may not be fantastical after all. That notion didn't have a good track record of coming true, but then that was how it was in life, right? Or had movies lied about that too?

"I mean, I've never done that kind of thing before. With anyone. So I'm just a little confused." Toris rubbed his face while Feliks felt his eyes go wide, mentally forcing himself to try to remain unimpressed for now. This was good news. He had indeed wondered about this.

"Me neither. So." Feliks managed to get out without sounding too excited.

"I just...can I be. Err. Honest with you? No one else is here, are they?" Toris scooted closer to Feliks which made his heart skip around a bit.

"Nope, just us. Spill." Feliks chewed loudly, his teeth moving at the same rate as his heart. He leaned in as if Toris was about to tell him nice gossip and not anything to do with their troubles.

"This is kinda hard to say for some reason." Toris laughed, his voice clearly nervous and his eyes darting from his friend to the carpet. "But I mean...I was actually surprised by how much I liked it."

Feliks swallowed his gum accidentally which made him choke for a millisecond. His body seemed to dispel the foreign substance in his airways for the purpose of being fully alert at this conversation. Without all of the extra mumbo jumbo going on, Feliks could say these things and it wouldn't be a lie: He'd made the boy he liked cum. They had done sexual things together. They both liked it.

What more could he ask for? Oh, right. Dating, a ranch, Antigua.

"I've really never thought about. Uhm. That kind of thing." Feliks would never be able to count all the 'uhm's lately. "But it was actually really nice which I think I should also talk about too. Since you're, uh. More. Knowledgeable."

"Yeah, sure." Yes, he welcomed this. Please tell all about your big gay lust, Toris. Especially if it was specifically aimed at HIM. He honestly wouldn't care if Toris decided that guys were gross but he was fine. As long as HE was fine and HE was whom Toris chose then everything was fine with him.

"But, I guess what I'm trying to say...especially without sounding like some perv is that. I wouldn't mind doing that...again?"

Feliks was glad he let Toris do most of the talking.

"Oh? Uh. That's cool." Feliks laughed like it was no big deal, though he knew his eyes were wildly roaming around, trying to process if he heard that correctly or if his swallowed gum contained a hallucinogen.

"Did you." Toris paused a beat while making it a point to not look Feliks in the face. He whispered. "Like it? Did you like it too?"

Feliks knew he had a chance to be serious. That if he took this moment and ran with it then he could really have everything his heart dreamed of. In fact, they still had two dances left on the school calendar. He could still, realistically, lose his virginity just like he wanted, embracing the person he'd held so many times in his thoughts and dreams. He pressed his knees together underneath his blanket and faced Toris, ready to be serious, but he also couldn't look his friend in the eye.

"Yeah." He admitted out loud for the first time. "I liked it. A lot."

Toris let out a sigh like he'd been holding in ten gallons of air. "God, that's relieving. I'm so glad."

"Uh, don't you remember I came on to YOU last time?" Feliks asked, admitting he'd done that aloud but not caring. He was honestly curious and extremely intrigued by this mindset.

"Oh. Well, yeah." Toris looked pensive. "But that doesn't really mean anything. Although you did-"

"Toris." Feliks had to interject before he heard words that would make him hide under his bed for a month. "Just don't worry about that part."

The two stared at each other for a while and asked simple questions, unrelated to the topic at hand. Feliks was sure that they'd strayed from the path and that he'd have to learn his true fate another day, but in reality it was just anxious small talk so Toris could continue.

"About that, uh, other thing though. Have you...?" Toris trailed off, trying to find a thought or perhaps squeeze out one that was hard to bear.

Feliks answered anyway. "Have I what?"

"Ever done something like that before?"

Feliks immediately became offended. "Uhm. No? Why would you think that? Didn't I already say no?" It wasn't obvious to him that this wouldn't be a strange thing to think to Toris, just like he had thought himself. While there was an added aspect of sexuality to it, it wasn't illogical.

"Well it's just that you might have. I'm trying to understand myself more than pry into what you do in private. Or don't do, I guess. But I mean more like anything at all like that. Kissing, touching..." While someone who might have been peering into the past exchanges these two had had with each other might think that Toris was someone who was experienced and unafraid to talk about things of that nature, his flush and stammer told a different and much more true story.

"Oh," Feliks examined his eyelashes in thought. "Nope. Never. Kissed or anything, either."

And just because he wanted to be able to say it and it not be a lie:

"You're my first."

He wasn't sure if this made Toris uncomfortable or giddy since the reactions he had with either emotion were almost indistinguishable. He immediately rubbed his face and tensed up visibly.

"When you say it like that it sounds more...dirty, somehow."

"Well it WAS kind of dirty." Feliks flustered himself, wrapping up his head like a shawl with his throw. It was the truth though, and he found that the longer the talk the more he could muster saying. Toris and he had always had this strange connection that seemed to be somewhat unfaltering. There were some things he couldn't tell him, obviously, but it seemed to be easy to just say whatever dumb or offensive thing was on his mind around his best friend which was why he'd earned that title. It would often get him into hot water since it also meant he was very keen to just blurt out any dumb or offensive thing ABOUT Toris but he was always forgiven rather quickly. While this subject was still something he felt confused, guarded, and wrong about, slowly their bond chipped away at his uncertainty, especially in the face of Toris' honesty.

He knew that Toris could also be very guarded, especially about his negative feelings. They were kind of like opposites. Feliks was very quick to say, usually, when he didn't like something Toris did or said as long as it didn't directly involve his hidden feelings. In the instance of Toris saying a word weird, not brushing his hair, or liking ugly shoes? He was definitely an open book. Toris, on the other hand, didn't like to get angry or negative at all unless it somehow trickled out and he would then apologize profusely if it was commented on. In fact, Feliks had asked him before to actually GET mad at him just so they could get a disagreement over with. Slowly but surely, as they matured and learned how to better handle feelings, there would be small lapses where things would be shared. Eventually, Feliks was afraid, they would be unable to keep anything from each other.

In fact, maybe that coming day was looming on the horizon.

"I guess it was. Sort of. Yeah, it was." Toris gave in, face red from embarrassment and heat, not just a cold rash.

The silence that would raise and lift returned again, though Feliks felt softer than he had all afternoon and, actually, in a while. He knew his heart should be pounding that he felt inches away from his hopes and dreams but instead there was a mellow air rolling around in his head. He decided it was probably because he'd been a spazz for so long that it felt nice to be able to be chill for a second, even if he'd just get excited again later. Being so up and down and all over the place, thinking about so many things all at once just wasn't his style. How did people do it? It was truly exhausting.

As was now the ritual, it seemed, Toris broke the silence. Feliks wished he hadn't.

"I just don't think I actually...like you. Like you."

Feliks didn't say anything. All he heard after that in his ears was the sound of glass breaking and then dead silence. Like how in disaster movies there's always some loud noise and the camera gets all shaky or blurry and you feel like your ears are ringing.

"It's not exactly normal to give someone an un-confession." Toris pondered, completely and utterly oblivious to all the havoc he had just wrecked no more than two feet away from him. "And I'm not really sure what's going on with my mind...and other things. But I just don't want to seem disingenuous, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Feliks answered, brain automatically cycling through responses. The rest of his body felt shut down; he'd imploded from the inside. He felt the need to scream loudly, either into a pillow or off of a rock face into a chasm. Nothing. It was all for nothing. His bargaining, his body. Everything was for naught.

It felt worse too because deep down he knew that with every stare and with every kiss he was daring Toris to notice. In every single thing he'd done he had slipped in a loaded 'I love you' like sending paper airplanes over, notes written in scribbles and kiss prints. 'Please notice me', 'Touch me like you love me', 'I've liked you for so long'. Every one had sailed across the sea to crash land right back where they had started. The message was never received.

"I'm really not sure about the liking thing. In terms of. Men, I mean. I just don't know. I've liked girls but not men. At least as far as I know. This is something you just...know, right?"

"Sometimes."

Another automated response rolled out of his mouth. Feliks' body was on autopilot. His eyes blinked and he shrugged and wiggled in the same ways, swallowing and breathing normally. Inside he was a wreck. This was so dangerous and he'd always known it was. He cursed Toris, hated Toris, for opening up a window into him and slamming it right back down. This was impossible. Even when he was sure that he'd simply played right into some sex game Toris had going on there was still some hope somewhere and now it was gone. Completely ruined.

And yet when his eyes retained focus and he could see out of them again, the sound returning to normal after his traumatic catastrophe, he stared across the sofa and Toris who was nervously rambling on about girls or something, using his hands to talk and getting more and more comfortable, nothing about his mind could hate him. His body couldn't either and he knew it, deep down. He knew that if Toris asked him right there to just take him in completely, he would let him. It made him sick to his stomach but he knew it was true.

"...think that they call it something but it just seems so...vulgar? Do you know what I mean? To call it that. But I guess that's what it is."

"Uh, what are you talking about?" Feliks narrowed his eyes and rubbed his stomach, almost no longer capable of being able to contain a violent need to vomit.

"Our, uhm. Mutual...fulfillment?" Toris, he could tell, was trying very hard to use as polite of language as he could.

"I am still totally clueless, man." The bile was churning and he definitely heard himself sound pained. Toris was too busy being a wuss to notice this time.

"Our new found relationship expansion." Toris sounded more like a car salesman than a senior in high school.

"Do you mean the penis thing." Feliks was too pained and trying too hard to force down both his breakfast and tears to worry about saying the word 'penis'. Not like that would be the worst thing he'd done lately.

Toris coughed, hiding an embarrassed throat gurgle a little too late. "Bluntly, yes."

"What about it though?" He would have to excuse himself soon but if he did he wouldn't come back out. He probably wouldn't come out again until he was eighty-five and Toris was dead or in a coma and he could finally look at either him or his tombstone.

"I'm just kind of asking if I guess we'd be...friends with benefits?"

"Sure." Feliks waved him off. "Uh. I think I had bad eggs or something because I'm seriously about to hurl."

Just leave. Just get out so he could finally collapse and crawl into a hibernation hole for years.

"Oh God, really? Do you want me to do anything? I can make you something."

Don't ask to make anything. Don't be considerate. Don't do all those things that made him love him in the first place.

"No, it's cool. Just, like. Go. I don't want to puke on you."

"If you're sure. Thank you, though. I'm glad that wasn't as painful as I thought it would be."

At that phrasing, he couldn't hold it in anymore. He lumbered as quickly as he could and relieved himself in the kitchen trashcan as he knew Toris followed him and watched. He did more than watch. After he was done he felt his hair pushed aside and his back rubbed, slowly with gentle presses that only made him hate himself more.


	9. Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “What do you do when the one person you want comfort from the most is the one who caused your pain? How can I want so desperately for him to wrap me up in his arms but also want so much for him to leave me alone."  
> ― Amanda Grace, But I Love Him

Christmas was Feliks' favourite holiday. Even without being told to, he was up at 5 AM for mass. God was practically the only person who could get him up early.

Usually church could be kind of dull; even he could admit that while still being pious. That morning, though, while hearing all those holy words and innocent hymns just made his soul feel like it was on fire. He cried a little during service and the elderly woman next to him rubbed his shoulder. If only she knew, he thought, that I am truly fallen.

He thought about going to confessional and maybe relieving some of his mental anguish in holy admittance but when he approached the large wooden box he froze and turned around. Where would he even begin?

Forgive me, Father, for I liked it when my friend and I gave each other handjobs. I liked it when I kissed him and I liked it when we did it again. I liked it when our things touched. I liked it when I thought that maybe he would sleep with me. I liked it when he tried to finger me. I fingered myself. Six times. I liked all of it. I guess, like, absolve me of my sins and stuff. Before you send me to conversion therapy or tell me to find a nice girl to settle down with, please, kay?

It wasn't going to happen.

The rest of the break involved a lot of texts from Toris about Christmas, finishing their homework, if Feliks wanted to do anything or if he was still sick. He replied to each one that he had to have the flu or something and that it was super ick, please stay away or you'll be ick too. Toris offered to bring him food and various pharmaceuticals and Feliks turned him down saying that he was feeling worse than ever, but Toris showed up anyway, knocking on the door and finally giving up once he'd tried to get in and it was locked for once. There was a day where he knocked and rang the doorbell multiple times before leaving eventually again. Feliks came down a few hours later to check the mail only to discover Toris had left his offerings there, hidden behind one of the porch's potted shrubs. He'd apparently even called his parents about it since he'd received a voicemail from his dad and a text from his mom telling him where the insurance information was and to call the family physician if he needed to. In truth, while he did feel nauseous constantly, he wasn't sick.

"Lovesick is more like it." He said to himself, out loud. He channel surfed his way through the rest of the break. He was suddenly hyper aware of all the romance and sexual inclinations on television and could only settle on the cooking channel and the NASDAQ thing, mostly the former until someone was talking about couples or a couple chef duo was on and he switched it over to watching the numbers endlessly flash by in festive greens and reds. It was a minute comfort.

On Christmas day Toris had texted him about getting his present whenever he was feeling better and he couldn't help but wail. On days like this, even though this particular one was important to him as gift giving and holy holiday, he was all too glad to be home alone to wallow in his own misery and avoid bathing and standard grooming practices for a few days.

It was January 1st when he finally took a shower for the first time in a week, disgusted by the amount of hair that could grow on one's body after just seven days, but even shaving and being clean and tidy didn't make him feel better. He felt ridiculous and gross still. And while it felt cliche and tawdry, no matter how much he scrubbed every inch of himself he could never get rid of the ghostly sensations of being touched.

It also felt like when he had finally gotten rid of one spot of memory another would tickle him. When that one was taken care of, three more would appear or reappear, never completely gone. It was his fault, he knew, for being the one who couldn't let go of the memories, but how could he now? Especially when he had been lulled into a false sense of security. The victory that he had won by knowing Toris liked the way he touched him, knowing that he could make him hard and make him cum and that he wanted that to happen wasn't so shiny and bright in his mind anymore. He and Toris weren't just friends anymore. They were secret partners in sexual deviancy.

Oh, right. Friends with benefits.

There actually wasn't anything about the phrase, dissected, that Feliks didn't like. Were they friends? Of course, best friends. 'The' was a nice word; it joined a bunch of words together. Benefits were always great. He liked perks.

But even he couldn't charm his mind into liking this one. He didn't want to be friends who decided to fool around on weekends. He wanted to be Toris' one and only just like he knew that he still saw Toris in that exact same way.

Somehow his mind didn't get the message, however, that it shouldn't be happy that they could still have sex. His mind and his lower half didn't understand, no matter how much Feliks wanted them to, that they shouldn't still feel aroused by feeling those phantom sensations of being squeezed and brushed up against and kissed. God, he'd thought of the word 'suckled' the other day. He was going to hell. To gross, tacky hell.

It was true, however much he wanted it not to be. On the second of the month he'd had a dream, a wet dream more vivid than any other he'd had before and that had gone farther than even he had. In his fantasies he could always picture things but before now he could never actually feel them. His brain had created some algorithm that input Toris' penis' length, width, veins, edges, everything and combined it with the sensation he knew he could feel if he played with himself; inside of himself. It was magical while he was unconscious and bound to his own whims and desires. They could have been anyone, any scenario, dating or married or complete strangers and that would have felt good any other way. It was like his mind had formulated a puzzle piece that he didn't have to squeeze into another one to make it fit. They were conjoined seamlessly with little effort.

He woke up and wanted to go back to sleep except sleep was what had betrayed him in the first place.

Going to school when it finally came back into session was torturous, not only because of how dull it was but because he knew that Toris would practically follow him around like a dog waiting to be fed. Sure enough, as he stepped out of his neighbourhood's carpool vehicle, Toris was basically sandwiched to him.

"Are you doing okay? Don't force yourself to go to school; it's not like we do much anymore anyway."

"Yeah, I turned around yesterday. Probs all that soup you left on my porch."

"I'm glad strays didn't get to it before you did, then. I was worried."

"Nah, it was fine. Thanks."

"I brought your gift. We have half days this semester, too, don't forget."

"Uh, dude, when do I ever forget when I DON'T have to be here?"

It proved to be a bit more simple than he thought it would to be normal with Toris. As the day dragged on, even if he only had to stay until 12:30, it seemed to be much more easy to forget about him with each class. Even the two they shared during the mornings were simple to be in. That was just it. The connection. Toris could probably break his heart twelve times and he'd laugh after a while and punch him in the ribs.

After their final class bell rang it was lunch time which they didn't have to stick around for, being seniors. Feliks liked lunch but could think of a million places better to eat at than their cafeteria so it was basically tradition that they walked someplace to eat and then either went on their way or to one of their respective houses. Neither objected to it today either as they walked out of school and down a street to go find food that wasn't either a day old or burnt.

"I hope you like it," Toris hefted his messenger bag from one shoulder to the other. "I mean, you're hard to buy for."

"No, you're hard to buy for." Feliks argued, going to be astute in his point. "Like. Of the two of us? You're so much worse."

"What? I'm happy with anything!"

"Oh my gosh, I'm not doing this. Every time I get you something it's all, like. Oh no, this is too much. Oh no, this is too fancy. You really shouldn't have. I'm Toris and I can't accept a gift to save my life! I could get you a stick and it'd be too flashy for you."

"But you get things that ARE way too flashy."

"See? Doing it right now. You literally tell me what to get you and it's no fun. Seriously. No fun."

After a while Toris simply requested his gift for Christmas be a leather day planner that was a bit more expensive than his tastes to satisfy Feliks' loathing of anything remotely cheap. He usually got a surprise gift too but it was nice to see him not fuss or complain over at least one thing before completely wrecking it and sending him into a dither.

"Okay but you just buy whatever you want anyway so how am I supposed to get you things I know you'd just get anyway if you wanted them?"

"Then I'd have two."

"Really."

"You can never have too much stuff!"

Feliks was grateful he could tease Toris and kick a rock at him like they would normally and Toris wouldn't make it weird. By the time they decided on an eatery, a sub place, they were cutting up like usual. The last months were nothing to them at all. Feliks complained about Toris trying to pay for food and getting plain things and Toris hovered over Feliks while he kept chiding their server over not giving in to him asking for 'extra everything'. The groove was back.

They sat down with their food and Feliks dug in immediately, usually ravenous at any time of the day. Toris slid his tray away and opened his bag, rummaging around amid his flurry of papers and knick knacks before he retrieved what surprised Feliks to be a large jewelry box. Not like the kinds that old women kept their costume jewelry but it was the type that you would keep something you just bought at a legitimate jewelers until you could give it to someone. Feliks knew jewelry since that was the business his father was in. That was a necklace box, long and flat, about the size of a tablet or small paperback.

"What is that?" Feliks asked, knowing it couldn't be for him.

"It's your gift." Consider him wrong.

"Why did you get me a necklace?" He considered that maybe he was reusing it somehow though that seemed unlikely as his was a household of testosterone and not one where necklace boxes would just lie around like his own.

"I thought it suited you and you like stuff like that." Consider him wrong again.

He snatched it away before Toris could even offer it to him, examining the box. He knew the company immediately as well as their last few collections; his father worked in the industry and allocated different collections and sets to different department stores as well as owned a crafting workshop for a large jewelry chain. Yes, if he could remember correctly, then he could probably guess what kind of something or other was inside. But another question came to mind:

"Did you rob a bank?"

"What?" Toris had started to eat though had to pause in between bites at such an odd question.

"Did you get a life insurance pay out or something? Did you mom finally croak and leave you a will with everything in it? Not that she would have much, except maybe some fleas, but whatev."

"Uhm. No."

"How'd you afford this then? Because, dude, I know these brands and this is hefty. Like, super hefty."

"Oh," Toris continued eating, being polite to swallow before speaking. "I didn't buy from the brand. But the person I did buy it from just had a bunch of boxes and put it in one from there. I thought that was cool since I know you know about this stuff. It makes it a little more surprising."

He had in fact been deceived. Now it actually was fun to wonder but he wasn't exactly a patient person, ripping off the lid to admire his new prize.

Not only had the brand been very deceiving but so had the size. While he expected a longer necklace, what was inside was actually more akin to a choker. It wouldn't be very low hanging at all and might be a little tight. Feliks was grateful that he had a slim neck and could appreciate things like this fully. It was golden, his preferred jewelry color, and extremely matte with a dull shine which lead him to believe it was mixed gold, not exactly pure and extremely diluted but he wasn't complaining. He actually had to tell his heart to settle down, feeling a twinge of his discarded thoughts rise up. He doesn't mean anything by it, Feliks scolded his mind. He just knows I like stuff like this.

There was a little pendant attached that was also gold but plated with a large, fake gemstone that he was assuming was supposed to be passed off as rose quartz but it was definitely fake and way too glossy. It created a peachy pink shine in the light, though, that he did like very much.

"Where'd you get it?" Feliks asked, taking it out of the box to admire even closer.

"Dad and I went up north to see his folks and they were having this swap meet sort of thing. The woman was trying to tell me it was real this and 100% that but I knew better. I'm sure you know more than I do, though."

"Yeah, definitely fake. Hope you didn't pay more than fifty for it. If you did then, like, whew. You were def ripped off."

"Thirty-five."

"You're not as dumb as you look, I guess."

Feliks was kicked lightly under the table but he laughed as he put the two strands of thin gold around his neck, an expert in blindly putting on accessories. There was a whispering image in his head that was called forth, reminding him that it would be nice if he could hold his hair while Toris fastened the clasp for him but that was over now. He'd be doing his own clasps for all his born days, it felt like.

It went on easily and it didn't hang much lower than where his collar bones were set, just like he thought. He scooted down the high rim of his sweater, letting it fall to his skin while he pulled the lower hem to show it off.

"Great. It does look good."

"You did good for once." Feliks applauded, going back to his food. "Like, seriously. I do really like it. I'll give you your stuff if you come over."

"Yeah, sure. I hope it's not anything super-"

"Just eat already."

They continued to go about their business normally but Feliks kept feeling his insides being barbed every time he felt his new necklace against his skin. Before any of this, he would have found it to be a wholly sweet gesture and feel hopeful, back when his feelings seemed more like wish fulfillment and not horrendously crushing and weighty emotions on his shoulders. Now it just felt like he really was getting all the benefits of a relationship without actually being loved. It didn't feel like it, he thought to himself, that was actually exactly it. If he wanted anything out of a list of relationship perks that include sex, jewelry, and love, he would always pick the third option and now he was walking around with one and two on call and on his neck.

He continued to eat until they were both done, trying his best to forget it all again which was just as easy as it had been all day. They walked to Feliks' house in splendid moods, chatting about his and that. Graduating, their college stuff. They'd actually applied to go to the same school which was exciting. Feliks didn't care about his education that much and could afford any school anyway, he just had to submit an essay and a test that passed. Toris had to get a scholarship, financial aide, and a loan to get a four year degree while working a job but he was practically a shoo in when it came to academics so their futures together were basically absolute.

Which opened up another scab that Feliks hadn't even been aware was there. They were going off to college in the spring. Would this arrangement last there? Was that expected in the first place? Would they be 'friends with benefits' until they both had to take pills to even get it up anymore with more liverspots than days left to live?

He asked this question as soon as Toris alerted him that he should stop spacing out since they were at their destination. Feliks was thankful since he wasn't about to stress himself out over college AND this mess all at once.

Inside they sat on the couch for a while before bringing out food, just like usual. They talked about people they knew, strange things they'd done over break, just like usual. What they wanted to do on the weekend, just like usual.

"Oh yeah, that stuff for you." Feliks suddenly remembered, a chip half way to his mouth.

"You can get it later." Toris shrugged while creating his own blend of ketchup, salsa, and mayonnaise. "You need to eat. I think being sick made you thinner."

"No, I need to get up or that thing you're eating is going to make me puke all over the place. Again."

"Suit yourself." Toris continued to eat his strange concoction while Feliks rushed upstairs to retrieve his gifts. He knew Toris would be fine with one and aggravated by the other but excitedly brought them down anyway, eager to see what his friend really thought.

They were both in one bag so Toris' face was one of relief at first but it was as if he immediately knew better and was suspicious instead.

"If I open that, am I going to complain?"

"See. Even you know you always complain. Total buzzkill."

"That doesn't answer my question at all."

"God, just open it."

Bag thrust in his face by an excited Feliks, Toris examined it and the paper sticking out of it before carefully removing it to see what was inside. Firstly he saw the usual gift. Leather day planner, pens included. He removed it and acted like he had no idea, excited to have something to write down his day in. Feliks couldn't help but roll his eyes. Only he could get excited by something as Grandma gift-y as a planner.

He was going to put the bag on the ground and was mid-action before he felt the weight of something else in the bag and gave Feliks a look that could frost over a hot frying pan. Still, he reached in with his other hand to extract a rather large, rounded box. About the size of a small coffee mug, he examined it.

"I'm glad that I don't know much about these things or else I'd already be scolding you."

"Yeah, I sure am glad too. My other gift from you can be no nagging today."

Toris hesitantly opened the box and his eyes widened immediately before narrowing.

"You spent too much on this."

"Oh. My God. No, don't."

"No, I mean it this time."

"You mean it literally. Every. Time."

"This is something people get mugged and murdered for, Feliks."

"I cannot believe you are talking about murders on Christmas."

"It's January."

Despite his complaints, Toris extracted his gift of a watch. Mostly due to Feliks' annoyance, he'd received the gift because Feliks was tired of being too lazy to check his own phone to see what time it was only to have Toris extract a boring flip phone to turn on and open before knowing what time it was. He thought about getting him a phone but those usually came with billing information and security codes and all kinds of things he let his mother understand about his own cell phone. So a watch it was.

It was silver, the real thing, and had one large and ornate face with roman numerals, links round and sparkling. He opted not to get something more clunky and gaudy in consideration of Toris but it felt boring to get something plain and leather. You could get watches like that at the general store. He'd actually made this purchase after their first sexual encounter. He felt rather girlish in doing it, or more like a sugar daddy that was rewarding a nice evening, but it seemed like it did mean something to him deep down and thus he went a little more overboard than usual. It was ordered from one of his father's personal catalogs, usually where he ordered things in bulk, and the man on the other line was rather cross that Feliks just wanted one.

"Oh, and your name's on it."

"What?!" Toris yelped, inspecting it.

"Yeah, on the back. So you can't go pawn it or something and buy groceries."

"I wouldn't do that." Toris noticed it now, rubbing the small but deeply inset letters carefully.

"I don't know, you might get desperate enough for more potatoes and white bread that you just go crazy one day."

"I don't even know how to put it on." Toris realized without commenting on the insult, sliding it on his wrist but fumbling with the strange clasp that fell in folds.

"I'll do it for you." Feliks grabbed his hand and attached the watch effortlessly to his friends wrist, making sure it was snug and secure. It felt strange to hold hands like this after doing so much more. It was meaningless to have his hand in his own but he realized they never really did that. But holding hands didn't really fit into the same category of passionate kisses and frottage.

"Thank you," Toris admired it in the light. "I mean, it's really generous of you. So thank you."

Feliks nodded at his friend's genuine words of pleasure and gratitude. "No problem, dude. Like, anything for you as alwayy and et cetera."

Feliks changed the subject to the weird man he'd ordered it from who kept asking him what a Laurinaitis was and how to spell it over and over again; he was unsure himself half the time and glad Toris sighed and confirmed he'd spelled it correctly. The chatting continued. Everything was right in the world again.

Toris suddenly took a bit of a pause in the middle of a conversation to examine his hands while the shared a throw blanket on the couch together, shoulder to shoulder. The only other people in the house were the army of crumbs Feliks had created, ready to do battle with his carpet at the slightest movement between the two of them.

"You know. I actually thought this really cheesy thing earlier." Toris finally got it out of him; Feliks could feel his shoulders tense up.

"So like usual." He replied with food in his mouth, ready to put more in.

"I guess...?" Toris rubbed at one of his eyes, clearly nervous. "But....it was along the lines of. If all you had gotten me for Christmas was a kiss then that would have been perfect."

Feliks stopped mid-chew. He knew his face was turning a color and also that even though he was looking ahead, he knew Toris was boring his eyes into him.

"That's so rom com, dude." Feliks joked with a stony voice. Don't do this. Not while they were having such a nice time.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Maybe I subconsciously picked it up from one somewhere."

Toris could laugh all he wanted but all Feliks could think about was how that actually would have been a great gift. A kiss and confession combo, please. Gift wrapped.

Actually, he had caught himself thinking it earlier. It was before they'd sat down to eat. When Toris' hair fell in just the right way, Feliks got the urge to move it behind his ear and his face. His cheek, his jawline. He had become a kiss addict, not a kissologist like he'd hoped. He felt dangerous, suddenly, like he really could just kiss Toris if he wanted to.

But wait, he thought to himself. He could. As long as he could rectify it within himself that it was fine, this was just what they did now, then it would be alright.

His body didn't wait for his brain to think past 'you could' before he had maneuvered himself onto his knees, scattering crumbs everywhere, and leaning over to kiss his friend on the mouth. If Toris found the position to be awkward or didn't like that Feliks tasted like sour cream and onion, he didn't complain one bit.


	10. Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Love is as simple as the absence of self given to another. God, when invited, fills the void of any unrequited love; hence loving is how one is drawn closer to God no matter its most horrific repercussions.”   
> ― Criss Jami, Venus in Arms

Late January was usually cold but it seemed to have taken on a tough facade this particular year, blowing in storm after storm with nothing but piles of snow to drop out of the already murky sky. Regardless, school was never canceled which meant tons of walks to and from it in the freezing cold. The uniform for most students consisted of large sweatpants with water marks visible to the mid-calf.

Except Feliks who was insistent upon wearing two pairs, one of which he would take off at school to showcase his still immaculate and not-soaked jeans underneath them. He was driven to school but even the walk to the front doors was arduous when the snow wasn't shoveled away.

"Your vanity really doesn't know any bounds, does it?" Toris commented while watching his friend roll his sweatpants off, shaking his perfectly dry legs free. His own were very visibly wet and waterlogged though this never bothered him much.

"It's not vanity. It's just not wanting to be sloppy." Feliks wasn't offended at all since he was actually kind of vain. This just wasn't a good example in his eyes. "Also, ew. Being wet and cold for five hours. No thanks."

"It's just your calves. It's not like you're a drowned mouse."

"I think it's been scientifically proven somewhere that your calves are your body's heat source."

"I think it's actually your head, feet, and hands."

"I'll get a team of scientists to totally debunk that."

In all honesty, it was usually just an eccentricity that he held in not wanting his clothes damaged since he knew he could just buy or get more. His jeans certainly weren't one of a kind. Feliks took pride in always trying to look proper, though. It might have been because his father usually required it due to some sort of image complex; whether it or the jeweling business came first in his life's timeline was a mystery. Toris was always surprised that he didn't object to some of the outlandish things Feliks wore. As it turned out, anything was fine as long as it was impeccably ironed, stain-free, and neat.

It also very well could just be that Feliks liked clothes and was too lazy to call his parents or go out and get new ones all the time, especially with his already impressive tendency to stain shirts taking up a lot of his clothing budgets, both in regards to time and monthly allowance.

Regardless of the reason, Feliks was always certainly neurotic when it came to clothing. He remembered Toris told him once that his own, non-mutual friends were gossiping about it once. One had asked Toris if it was just a gay thing to which he really didn't know what to say. Feliks wasn't even that offended; he shrugged like he had no idea if it was or not. Maybe there was a chromosome on which being gay and your sense of clothing importance were connected. Feliks always thought that if this was the case, Toris being anywhere near anything but straight was a lost cause.

His strange clothing rituals including setting out outfits for each day of the week in advance. While Toris always used his Christmas planner to devise everything going on in his life, sometimes up to months ahead of time, Feliks could only really get this way about vacation itineraries and his clothing. He had dividers in his closet that separated seven set outfits and then the rest of his clothing fit (barely) into his eighth compartment. Shoes lined up at the bottom; no pair twice in the same week. He also had a calendar that he bought yearly that told him the color of the day (according to whom, Toris never knew) and he had to have it on him somewhere. Feliks was very devoted to his faith and believed that there was only really one God and subset of power that controlled whatever he did and his destiny but he had a semi-contradictory idea that somehow coordinating your clothes by a color sequence, ordained by whomever seemed to be in charge of that kind of thing, could give you good luck or cause good things to happen.

He would always prove this fact by describing a day when he forgot and on that same afternoon he got a call about his mother leaving her wallet at home. That was his only real evidence, mostly because that was the only time he ever forgot.

"So what about the days when you wear the colour but bad stuff happens anyway?" Toris asked one day over ice cream at his house; they were freshman.

"I think you're missing the big picture." Feliks would say, expertly deflecting his judgment being questioned. "Like, everything good always happens on a Good Clothes Day."

The reason this was suddenly more important than ever was because after the string of incidents, which Feliks would refer to mentally as That Strange Stuff, he took his rituals more seriously than ever as each day and scenario came and went. He was usually diligent...as diligent as he could be about anything ritualistic. There were numerous days where he would say screw and just grab a pair of socks to throw in his closet to go with the colour for that particular day.

During the spans when he was hopeful Feliks made sure to be on task with his dedication. Gone were the days of being tired in the morning and barely remembering to put on his underwear with that days colour in it; he just really wasn't feeling wearing purple that week or because he had to re-buy a blue shirt for the pants he wanted. From then on he was going to take it more seriously. Create an entirely colour-devoted ensemble. Or, at the very least, have at least two major pieces of clothing coincide to mix things up a little. Good energy was in short supply and even prayers needed support.

When he was crushed, it seemed hopeless. Maybe Toris was right in that it was kind of silly; his friend had implied it with his questioning but never said it out loud. If his theory couldn't work for him when he needed it most, what was the point? In truth, this wasn't actually something he thought that Jesus would take all that seriously. If he put the straight-making requests of every gay boy with pining hearts then no miracles or sunrises would ever occur again. That's where his secondary religion should have come in but it was a complete and utter dud; perhaps it was because he believed in it at all that Jesus HAD actually intervened. That would teach him to worship false idols.

On the day that he had kissed Toris in his living room he had actually been too tired to check for a few days, completely down and too oblivious to change out of an alternating cycle of boxers and big t-shirts; it took a feat of strength to even get himself as prepared as he did that day. They hadn't done more than kissed that day which was honestly most likely due to the fact that Toris had to take a phone call from his father which broke them up and they never came back together again.

Later on in the day, Feliks had felt his spirits rise a little so he managed to check his calendar with the colours printed in the bold and brash fonts. The particular colour for that day was gray.

It could have been entirely coincidental that he was wearing gray slacks and a gray sweater to lounge in but to Feliks it was practically a stigmata that meant he was a chosen son of the religion of hues and shades.

So there he was, standing in the hallway and musing about what books he should bother extracting from his locker. He looked more like a crayola crayon than a teenager; the colour of the day was lime green.

"I think you're going a little overboard lately." Toris looked him up and down with a look that played around the idea of amusement but ended up looking perturbed. His eyes were also squinted but whether this was also from confusion or because Feliks was practically a strobe light, no one could know.

"Dude. There's always a method to my madness. In fact, it's not madness. It's totally sanity." Feliks had no time, or will, to explain his strange obsession fully since it mostly concerned the person questioning it. His body was a temple and his clothes were a shrine that held offerings to the colour gods. The ones that might be more tailored to issues of straight conversion therapy.

They seemed to be working well enough to make someone's dick gay, now the brain needed some work.

"I guess I just don't understand much about that whole area of...life?" Feliks seemed insulted that Toris questioned clothing's importance in life.

"Uh. Obviously. I don't even understand how you wake up in the morning and think 'Oh yeah. I'll just play clothing bingo and put on whatever comes out of the little wire, rolly thing'. Like, really? I'm surprised you don't come to school with socks on your ears sometimes."

Toris just offered a shrug, conceding to this battle. They'd had it too many times. Toris didn't understand what he considered to be superficial obsessions and Feliks didn't understand Toris' not understanding. The cycle continued.

The two chatted a bit before going their separate ways for the morning. They only have five classes a day and then lunch which they skipped anyway. Their first classes weren't shared; they didn't have a class together until third period. Toris went upstairs to the AP wing to take his advanced English class which was useful for dual credit purposes. Then it was his forced elective for the second semester, something Feliks didn't understand, called Essentials of Communication. As far as he concerned, he was pretty good at that and couldn't be bothered to take a class about how to talk. Toris tried to explain once that it wasn't just about talking but Feliks wouldn't hear anything of it.

"Can you believe the school system? Like, tax payer dollars going to teach you how to talk better? Ridic, man."

"That's not exact- Since when did you care about tax payers?"

Feliks' first class of the day was Accounting which was more boring than anything since it was simple but tedious. It was either that or something called Consumer Math which Toris had informed him, having had other Life Skills classes with people who had taken it, was basically telling you how to write a grocery list and do discounts in your head but stretched out over eighteen weeks. No thank you. Then it was Organic Chemistry which made his brain feel like mushy oatmeal even if he was pretty good at it.

They finally converged in AP Trigonometry. After that the duo would split off so that Toris could go to his own Organic Chemistry class and so Feliks could try not to sleep in his regular English class. The day ended with an incredibly boring World History II lecture in which they'd do their exchanging.

"Did you guys ever do this in English? It's some sort of presentation about sentence diagramming? She gave us a whole packet of stuff to do and present to her. No idea."

"Yeah, in II. I probably have my sheets somewhere. You should probably know how to diagram a sentence by now though, Fel-"

"Do you want me to give you the Trig stuff or not?"

"Fine."

This deal of school class swapping proved a lot more useful when there was work to do but now their homework was mostly a piece of math here and there or a final presentation grade. The normal motion was they would go to Trig together and while Toris would pay attention, it was faster for Feliks to do the work and then help him with what he didn't finish in class. In exchange, Toris would give him whatever guidance he needed for English and tell him key things to say to sound like he actually cared about literature.

"When you talk about Lawrence, make sure to really focus on the idea that time is of the essence."

"Always mention a specific phrase of imagery with that project. I'll tell you which ones I used; I got bonus marks."

"Mr. Reynolds really likes Anna Karenina. If you compare whatever you're reading to it then he'll mark you high. I'll tell you what to put where if you show me your essay beforehand."

Toris was a sort of stickler for Feliks doing his own work, or at least he was in theory. He was, Feliks learned rather quickly in their friendship, like the parent that would threaten to ground their child but then would never do anything about their misbehaving. He would text Feliks very sternly about how he should try to do his own homework and be responsible but was more afraid of Feliks failing anything than his not learning a lesson. If it wasn't for Toris, he probably would have had to take summer school to get to tenth grade.

While World History II was a class based entirely on attendance and vocabulary and term quizzes at the end of the week, it was still a difficult class to sit through just because of how it seemed to slog on forever for Feliks and Toris had a lot to say about how unethical and teacher-like it was to not include any real work in a history course. Because of this, Toris had a sort of strike-like attitude and Feliks was used to looking forward when he knew it was appropriate and turning his head to talk to Toris through the rest of it. Without him there he might have slit his throat a week into the year. Regardless, they still dutifully turned in their quiz papers when Friday rolled around, if only to leave class as quickly as they could.

A new layer of snow had formed on the ground but it was a small price to pay for being able to finally leave. The pair exhaled sharply along with the other crowd of bored seniors that left to go elsewhere to eat.

At least that was they always did so Feliks assumed that was the plan until Toris spoke up.

"Let's go to my place. My dad's not home."

"Sure," Feliks didn't think twice, shaking his pant leg loose; the snow was thick enough to get his jeans underneath wet this time and the fabrics were sticking together damply. "Can we, like, use your fireplace room? I'm gonna get hypothermia otherwise."

"Yeah, he cleaned it out last week so it should be fine if that's what you want." Toris nodded, staring up with a stereotypical thoughtful look up to the sky.

The small talk on the way there was average and had to do with school and weekend plans to make and execute. Nothing really ignited his thought process that he could think of; there wasn't exactly a trigger for what Feliks noticed was odd about what Toris had said.

Feliks' mother often said he was a simple boy to surprise because he was kind of oblivious, which was truthful up to a point. Feliks' brain worked in a way that dissected things bit by bit only when they were of absolute interest. Everything else got jumbled inside of his brain into two piles: 'Stuff I Kinda Need To Know' and 'Other Junk I Don't Care About'. School stuff that applied to tests or homework went into the former pile and everything else in class went into the other, just as an example of how his brain worked. Things having to do with his interests, however, went into a certain machine that was somehow more aware than the rest of his brain was. A lot of the things he had learned and remembered about Toris were created by this machine and they would usually pop into his mind without him even knowing he noticed these things. Without its existence he wouldn't have ever really noticed and appreciated how Toris' eyes were the exact same shade as a really nice jacket he owned and he couldn't appreciate the tough, ruggedness of a scar that Toris had on his right side. Things like jewelry, mathematic formulas, hair spray ingredients, current movies and their credentials, which things to eat to not look bloated or fat in certain outfits, and how to make many foods in the microwave were also processed here and locked inside of a vault to be extracted at any time.

There were obvious blind spots, he'd discovered, since he would sometimes have trouble recalling some things he should know. This was normal and he shrugged when it came up. Everyone forgets things. But there was also the question, recently, of how he could have missed the part where his best friend and potential, destined husband was basically a perverted sex freak. This description had softened as time went on at least and it was now more along the lines of 'possible promiscuous bisexual'.

That's why his brain put the phrasing of 'Let's go to my place. My dad's not home.' on a convener belt to be dissected and split apart, though the process was a little clogged by Feliks' sorting out of his school work. It was about five minutes after he had said it that Feliks noticed the peculiarity of what his friend had told him.

Feliks saw Toris' father more than his own. He worked a lot but was the type of man that was accustomed to having to come home every day to take care of a small son and just kept up the tradition. He was a good man. He was a bit past middle-age and Feliks had made up some sympathetic, lovestruck story about how he was obviously a man who had gotten swept up into the world of a beautiful, young waif who left him when she realized she could pick up another thirty-something to take care of her quite easily. For this reason, Feliks had created this pseudo-bond with him which made him endearing. One time last year, when Feliks had done a dumb thing and tried his first wine coolers, Toris took him to his house to deal with and his father had gotten involved, though gently and sympathetically. He had taken his friend's father's hand while tipsy and just nodded a few times. Toris told him later that he kept repeating 'I get it dude. I soooooo get it' but never explained what that meant.

Feliks knew. It was a half-drunk message saying "I understand. This bloodline is so romance tricky it's not even funny."

So, basically, Feliks was very accustomed to him being around for anything he and Toris was doing and they all had a degree of being open with each other; Toris' father was a rather understanding and soft individual. If they were cooking, he could be there. If they were doing school work, he could be there. If this was an after school special, he would be the stand in adult to talk to about how drugs were bad and sex was great with condoms on, smiling all the while with an understanding glint in his eye. There was never a time where he had thought that, wow, Toris' dad should just go because they were doing something that he didn't need to be there for.

At least, that was the idea until he and his friend had came in his kitchen together. It would have been super sucky if he had been there for THAT.

Which was what made his machine toss around that idea that X was equal to the idea that that was the one scenario where he had ever known Toris had been close to afraid about his dad catching him doing anything. If that was true and Y, the fact that Toris had specifically mentioned his father wouldn't be there and had never been before, was also true, then added together meant that Z was the sum. Z was equal to the thought that these two things put together meant that there was definitely a loaded implication to those words.

This came to Feliks rather quickly and not in mathematical terms but more so like a flashing thought that said 'He probably wants to do something'. The more he thought about it and cycled it around his head, the more his brain cut into it, though. It became an equation to solve or a tough English question to ponder and find an answer for. Except this wasn't one he could make his friend answer for him.

"-okay?"

"Super duper. Like, super good. You have no idea." Feliks answered quickly, realizing he had been lost in his nervous thoughts and not the conversation.

"...I didn't ask if you were okay. I said I needed to make sure we had wood for the fire out back before we went in, okay?" Toris was used to Feliks spacing out so didn't make it a case. Feliks was also unaware they had already walked all the way to Toris' block.

He didn't allow himself to think about a lot of the actions and ideas of what they would do inside until he was actually on the stoop. Toris told him to wait there while he unlocked his back gate, checked the amount of kindling they had and brought some in, then let Feliks in through the front after unlocking the backdoor. This gave Feliks, at least in his mind, way too much time to be alone and to get anxious and more self conscious than he cared to admit to. 

He inhaled deeply, leaning this way and that, trying to make sure he smelled nice. Not like sweat, not like car freshener from the drive to school, not like the cleaning agent they used in the halls. No, he smelled like tissue paper, his normal assumed fragrance. Good.

Feliks had also developed a habit of being even more aware of every nook and cranny on and inside of his body than ever. Ever since his title had been solidified Feliks had felt like he was on call. He had q-tipped and washed out more places than he had ever thought possible. He was sure that Toris didn't care about this level of personal hygiene himself; he seemed the type to forget to even use soap in the shower if his mind was occupied enough. But Toris wasn't the one trying to impress someone with perfection. Toris didn't need to work hard to make someone like him and fall for him. That was quite a luxury, in Feliks' opinion.

Even though he knew that as a person who was in a relationship with benefits being shared he would be in positions, literally, to give pleasure, it still made him feel kind of like a harlot to have to have the idea of what he was really prepping for in mind when he got ready every morning. Those thoughts that he had sworn he'd gotten rid of at least fifty times kept rolling back no matter how much he tried to erase them.

It was also surreal, he thought as he rocked on his heels and examined the tips of his flats, that he actually hadn't thought of the fact that prepping like that could actually be purposeful. It was a little unbelievable that he was actually about to put that effort to use, that it was actually something that would or could happen still. It was still something he wrestled with. He'd gotten more normal about it even if his morals and ethics hadn't completely simmered and probably never would.

Toris finally unlocked the door and Feliks scampered inside, hoping his inhibitions would stay outside this time.


	11. Wishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You know, unrequited love is very difficut? It's not just having this one-sided love of someone who's far away. Being close, talking daily, liking a guy who's constantly near me is harder than it would be under different circumstances.”   
> ― Park So Hee

"That's. A whole notebook of stuff."

Feliks looked at what Toris had presented to him as if it was toxic ooze he'd just thrown up into his friend's hand. it was a well-worn notebook with 'For Whom The Bell Tolls - A Sentence Diagramming Project' scrawled onto the front as neatly as possible while still being etched into the thin cardboard.

"Yeah. You should go buy one." Toris nodded, enthusiastic about showing off his work. "It was a pretty easy hundred, if you ask me. Just apply yourself."

"I'm, like, going to need to apply something if I ever want to use my hand again." Feliks flipped open the notebook to see each page lined with sentences, three lines in between each. Lines and small words, branching out like small shrubs, were growing from the base sentences, parasites as far as Feliks was concerned.

"It's not that difficult. Or that much. You're being dramatic."

"Uh. No? How did your hand survive this? I'd have totally held a killer wake for you if you'd asked."

"The good news is that you only have a packet. We had a fourth of the book to do." Toris was choosing to concentrate, now, on another assignment he'd been given in AP English IV. Feliks wasn't even bothering asking to help. He knew whatever he was doing would go way over his head.

"I still am pretty sure I'll die." Feliks slid the notebook across the coffee table with a pencil.

"Then I guess I'll be the one holding the wake."

Feliks was very glad that this was happening instead of anything untoward. It gave him time to mentally prepare himself, as if that had ever done him any good, or to focus on other things if they weren't going to do anything at all. In this instance he was perfectly fine with doing schoolwork, just as long as it wasn't diagramming sentences. The sad part was, he told himself for the first time in his life, that he didn't actually have anything other than that to do.

Accounting was mostly book work that they would do in class that involved log books and data sheets. Chemistry was pre-lab at the moment so he didn't have anything to do that involved take home work. Trig was already done with; Toris had gone over the work and done some editing of his own work. His English IV work was pretty much persona non grata to him at the moment. There was never anything to take home in his history class.

So he was stuck sipping his hot tea, trying not to focus on other things.

He let Toris do his work while he ruffled through his own knapsack, trying to kill time. Discarded sheets of notebook paper, pencils, and packages of tissue could only fill up so much time and space, though, so he pretended to write in a personal notebook of his that he used for class shenanigans and other dumb things he thought about day to day.

Feliks doodled swirls and eights and zeros over and over while he finally let his brain think about things. Eventually he made a chart with cryptic acronyms and initials to diagram the current state of affairs.

In one bubble was an H and it was marked with a number one. In another marked with a number two were the letters K, H, PT. In the last bubble he simple put a K and drew a loopy three next to it. The first time it was really just hands; the second time it was kissing, hands, and penis touching; the third time was just kissing. A lone circle was then traced a few times which was marked with the number four. He wasn't sure what would be put inside that circle.

He looked up every once in a while to see if there were any indications that his friend was going to make any moves. Every time all he saw was Toris flipping a page, writing something down, or furrowing his brow in thought or wondering where he'd highlighted something or other. For now he only seemed to be focused on working and nothing more, nothing less.

His knee shook impatiently. Feliks didn't appreciate this at all. To say something with obvious intention that made his mind race and his stomach tighten was bad enough, but to just leave him hanging was absolutely unforgivable. When he wanted something it wasn't an eventual goal. It was always something that would happen right then and there or he wouldn't get his way.

This also made him realize that he was actually expecting something with excitement and not with dread or the feeling of wanting to get something over with. He had really just been lying to himself when he thought about how glad he was. Or was he? It was more like he was glad they hadn't fallen into the house and immediately gotten undressed on the linoleum just because he wasn't ready. The more he let himself settle, the more he realized that while his heart wanted romance, it also wanted more physical things more strongly than he realized. In the heat of the moment was one thing. Before this was all straightened out was another. He knew deep down that he could kiss his friend when he wanted but to be 'friends with benefits' also meant that he was someone who could initiate things and reap rewards from them. He liked that even though that part was something he could never say out loud. 'I liked what we did'? Sure. 'I like that I can do you'? Never.

If they didn't do anything he'd be a little irritated that he'd gotten worked up but he wouldn't complain. It would just be nice, is all. He thought about kissing some more. He had never sat in Toris' lap romantically, just as friends. That would be nice. Maybe he should make a wishlist.

He titled his project 'FSSSS'. At first it was short for 'Feliks' Super Secret Sexy Sheet' but 'Sexy' was replaced with 'Stuff' in his mind so as not to be improper and more vulgar than necessary.

The first few lines he wrote on a new page were innocent enough. The first thing that went on the list was simply 'KISSING' in all caps, underlined, and retraced. He had actually become kind of proud of his ability to kiss. The last time they had, there was absolutely no teeth clinking. His doctorate degree was probably going to be mailed to him sooner or later.

'sitting in laps' was added before he scratched out the 's' in 'laps'. He didn't want Toris to sit in his lap. That would be awkward. He was also sure Toris outweighed him with twenty-five more pounds of muscle. He didn't look like he weighed a lot and their height difference wasn't that different but where Feliks was thin but not toned, Toris was definitely more muscular, even by a bit. Nope, he definitely needed to edit that. Feliks added a carrot below his words to add in Toris' name. 'sitting in toris' lap'.

Chewing on his mechanical pencil's eraser he wondered what else he should put on here. There were a lot of things he'd always thought about doing off and on but most of them were chaste. He added those to the list quickly.

'holding hands'

'sleeping in the same bed' (This had been done before but not in a romantic sense.)

'buying a house' (He scratched that out quickly.)

'dance together. the slow kind. not the slutty kind, duh!!!'

'washing his hair' (Feliks had always had this urge to give him a very good deep scalp shampoo.)

'feeding' (He knew what this meant.)

'dressing him'

This was a good start, he decided, but he didn't even know where to begin when it came to anything lewd. Feliks figured that when they got there then they got there. There was one thing he hesitated putting on the list but scribbled it out anyway before slamming his small notebook shut.

'It.'

"Is diagramming sentences that painful?" Toris had looked up, Feliks realized, giving him a look.

"Uh. Of course." He recovered quickly while making something up. His mind was nowhere near thinking about his English homework. "Only a nutcase would enjoy this."

"I found it soothing."

"Gross."

"If you actually applied yourself and got your work done serious," Toris began to scold. There was that talk of 'applying yourself' again. "Then you might just be done already since it's only one packet."

"I don't think this is behavior fit for someone who might need math tutoring." Feliks balked.

"When have I ever needed tutoring? Comparing notes isn't tutoring."

"It might as well be." Feliks shrugged. "Either way. That well might just swoosh. Dry up."

Toris shook his head and returned to his work.

About thirty minutes passed and the two were silent throughout. Toris continued plodding through something that wasn't due for two months and Feliks, no longer really thinking about anything risqué, was tracing the lines of the letters on his list over and over again. With each stroke he found it easier and easier to imagine scenarios.

{ The smell of night sweat wasn't that attractive but it was a small price to pay for laying on Toris' upper arm, casually slung across his bed. Feliks didn't remember choosing it as his pillow but he had sometime during the night. He wasn't one to wake up early and based on the colour and strength of the light in the room, he was definitely keeping that trend. He smiled to himself, feeling his bedmate was still asleep, knowing that Toris must be so relaxed that he didn't care about alarms or waking up before the crack of dawn for once. }

That one was a good one, Feliks thought, cataloging it in his brain.

{ Toris' nose kept wrinkling at the smell of wheat grass that emanated from the sink. Feliks didn't mind and was quite accustomed to it, lathering his hands with the slimy solution and rubbing Toris' roots gently. He'd explained this was just a scalp rinse and they hadn't moved on to the real stuff yet. Shampoo, conditioner, then a leave in. It was nice to have his own private hair salon, especially since it meant that any time he leaned in to kiss or cuddle he would smell the fruits of his labor tickling his own nose. }

Another good one. Adding it to the scrapbook.

{ The song that was on was something Feliks had heard on a special about the seventies once. He knew the chorus but didn't know the words and didn't care to. He was sure he'd also heard it in movies where the heroine with bad hair would run to her lover and collapse into him while the sunset blazed in the background. This was in direct contrast to the white and blinding tile and painted brick walls of the school gym's entrance hallway. No one else was there. Just Toris and Feliks.

He was looking forward to this so much but as soon as they'd entered it felt like everyone was staring at him and his breathing got shallow. It was harder with each step to get through all of those people standing packed together around the edge of the gymnasium, some saying hello to him and trying to make small talk. It was making his mind feel glazed-over and like he couldn't really recognize anyone, why he was there, or what to do.

Toris had found him an empty table, miraculously, but after that the nervous sensation was still tingling just under his skin. It was almost painful. It was almost like he was stuck perpetually in a moment of jumping from a diving board and his body was waiting to hit the water. Feliks' muscles were tense and rigid, waiting to be led to another attack of anxiety. }

This was bad. This was disappointing. When he had imagined this before he hadn't accounted for something like that. He went around and around the letters. He could imagine something better than that. Instead, Feliks fell right back into it.

{ "We should probably leave." Toris tried to reason with his date, "I mean, you're just going to be miserable sitting here like this."

"Who said I was miserable?" Feliks laughed nervously even though as each second passed it felt more and more like the truth. He had accounted for feeling he and Toris were the only ones in the room or even alive but that was definitely not the feeling at all. Every pair of eyes he saw felt like they were on him, knowing what he was feeling, probing his mind, asking him questions. He'd never felt so uncomfortable and naked. He needed to be drunk for this.

"No." Toris sternly scolded. He wasn't aware he'd verbalized that last thought. "We're just going to leave."

"No!" Feliks made it obvious he didn't want to leave. He actually would prefer it but he had to salvage his fantasy.

"At least get some fresh air. We can step out for a second if that's better." He was aware that Toris was just being concerned. He wanted to stay but knew he couldn't even stand up and move towards those people again if he tried. Obliging, he stood up, taking a hand his date had extended to him.

The table was next to the exit and there were only some stragglers near so Feliks felt calmer about getting up and leaving. The hallway was clear of all students since the dance was in full swing. The loud speaker that usually belted out announcements and called for students to come to the offices was crackling out dance hits and love songs. Toris was trying to pull him along outside but Feliks held firm in the middle of the corridor.

"Here's fine." He assured, letting go of his friend's grasp. "And it's not totally cold here like out there."

"Yeah, God forbid your special socks get wet." Toris rolled his eyes but stopped trying to make Feliks go anywhere.

"They aren't special socks. Sort of..." Feliks trailed off.

"I'll never understand your clothing system so that's no surprise."

That's where he found himself. Listening to a bad song from three decades ago but still feeling the hazy glow it was supposed to illicit anyway. It felt right to hug his date and hold him close. No one was around to make him feel like he had to be careful of every breath he took; exactly the opposite. There was an unlimited amount of comfort he felt that washed over him and made his skin subside its assault of goosebumps and tense muscles relaxed. Toris held him back.

They swayed back and forth as good a dance as either of them would get they guessed, but that was okay. A few minutes later Feliks would take Toris' hand and make it feel the garter system he was hiding under his dress slacks. }

That wasn't a good one. Feliks broke his pencils led purposefully. That was enough imagining if his head was going to fall into realism so easily. In that scenario he felt inexplicably like there wasn't any sensation or understanding that they were together. It was just for a night. That was the kind of situation he was in. They might be able to go, as friends who cared about each other, and something would happen later, as friends with benefits.

It was then that he noticed Toris had disappeared from their study session.


	12. Senses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “As Rilke observed, love requires a progressive shortening of the senses: I can see you for miles; I can hear you for blocks, I can smell you, maybe, for a few feet, but I can only touch on contact, taste as I devour”   
> ― William H. Gass

Toris returned unceremoniously and Feliks couldn’t tell if his face was still flushed or if his eyes were still glossy from his day dreaming, but something had to be up.

“Are you alright?” Toris said, coughing in the middle of asking.

“Yeah, duh.” He waved his concern off, trying to figure out what was wrong with his face. “What’s up?”

“I don’t like it when you’re quiet.” Toris shook his head as he sat back down. “It’s suspicious.”

“I’m offended, honestly.” Feliks couldn’t insert the needed humor into his voice. “Like, what? Little ol’ me is gonna do something?”

“I don’t know.” Toris turned his attention to a notebook he’d left open. He made certain to not look at his friend. “You’re full of surprises lately.”

‘Oh really?’, Feliks wished he could say. ‘I’M full of surprises? How about you? And your penis suddenly everywhere? In front of me, in my mind. Everywhere.’

“I don’t know what you mean,” was all he actually managed to get out.

Toris was officially done with his work for the day and Feliks didn’t want to get started on his own anymore so the two sat in silence. Feliks wasn’t sure of what he should do. Should he try to leave and see what happened? Should he be upfront? Why couldn’t he be decisive about anything anymore; he used to know exactly what he wanted and could surmise a theory on how to get it pretty damn fast. In fact, in a situation that didn’t involve their current predicament, he still could.

This must be what adults always meant when they said sex complicated things. If normal sex made things complicated then what adjective did you need to describe non-committed (but still highly emotional, at least on one side) sex with your best friend?

Unless that’s not even what Toris meant by what he said at all. And his mind was just being crazy again; that was always a choice lately.

Feliks was honestly grateful when Toris was actually the one to break the silence. He couldn’t tell if his voice was shaking because it just did that sometimes or if he actually was nervous about something, specifically something suspect.

“Want to watch something?”

Feliks never turned down a TV session. He was again grateful because they could no doubt find something to watch that allowed him to talk like normal without being a complete girlish ditz at the moment.

The den was laid out thusly: in the middle was a coffee table that was low to the ground and angled cattycorner with a couch on one side and loveseat on the other. On the wall that was connected to the doorway was the fireplace in the back corner, close to the loveseat. Someone could easily sit in the loveseat and enjoy the fireplace and the coffee table. On the opposite wall was the television which was mounted. If someone wanted to watch television then they could easily lie on the couch or sit there with access to the coffee table, residual heat from the fireplace, and a clear view of the television. Because of this, Feliks haphazardly pitched his bag onto the other side of the coffee table since he was sitting with his back to the television. It landed with a dull thud on Toris’ thigh but he didn’t complain. Feliks basically catapulted onto the couch.

“I call dibs.”

“I’m fine with the floor anyway.” Toris shrugged, shoving his bag off of his bent leg. “It just means you can’t reach the remote.”

“What? Yes huh.” Feliks tried to grab for the coffee table drawer where it was kept but Toris was in the way and then some odd inches were still in between the two things. Feliks was too lazy to lean all the way over and he knew it.

“Nope.” Toris pulled it out, victorious. “I’m not sitting here while you watch the NASDAQ.”

“What?” Feliks blinked. “Why would I want to watch the NASDAQ.”

“I was under the impression you were into it lately. It’s usually what’s on when I’m over.” Ah. Yes. His go to method of alleviating his mind from sadness, sex, and sin.

“I meant TODAY, dummy. It’s totally a good day so I’m not worried.”

“You know it’s a good stock day?”

“Yup. I’ve got, like, some seventh sense.”

“Don’t you mean sixth?” Toris smiled that smile he got when he thought he would catch Feliks having a dumb moment.

“No. My sixth sense is my fashion sense. Seventh is stocks.”

“I’m pretty sure those aren’t real senses.”

“Just because you don’t have them doesn’t mean I don’t too, dude. Like, I’ve got enough for the both of us. Aren’t you totally glad I’m your friend? I’m super generous.”

Toris usually picked some strange nature documentary or something about the ocean to watch which usually made Feliks snore but he was adamant about watching any of them today. He wasn’t about to look at some mating lions and then have Toris get some crazy idea. He wanted to make love, not to be mounted.

Eventually, he told himself, not every single thing he thought of would revolve around sex when they were together. Or apart. One day, anyway.

Feliks kept requesting Toris stop at anything that could possibly resemble a reality show but Toris wasn’t being very obedient today. Feliks was really good at reality TV. People made dumb decisions, did wacky things, and he could laugh and comment on them easily. Something would be on for three seconds and Toris would switch to a different channel with a remark about how he wasn’t in the mood for hair pulling and name calling. Feliks purposefully grabbed and pushed and kicked if he even dared put it on something with gazelles or prairie dogs. News channel, news channel, infomercial. They settled on something about cooking. Food pornography was the only kind of porn Feliks needed anyway.

“Goooooood.” He moaned into a throw pillow. “I’m starved. That glaze is killing me. I think I can totally see the light.”

“You act like you’ve never seen ribs before.”

“I don’t even like ribs. They’re messy. But I like THOSE ribs.”

“You can put that glaze on basically any meat. Meat you usually eat with a knife and fork?”

“…shut up.”

“Seriously.”

“Do it for me.”

“Sure.”

The man cooking was done with his ribs so he moved onto a pineapple cake of some kind. It was lightly frosted but also had a glaze and a pink sheen. He called it a hummingbird cake. Feliks was practically dying.

“Tor. Tor. Oh my God, you have to make that for me. Next birthday, I swear you have to. No. That’s way too far away. Tomorrow? Now? Pinky promise you’ll do it soon, pretty please?”

“Sure, sure. Why can’t you just do it yourself?” Toris didn’t even look over while he laughed; extending a pinky to where he knew Feliks’ was hanging in the air, waiting for their oath.

“You make it taste better.” He batted his eyelashes. He was just lazy and bad at following recipes.

“If you say so.” Toris finally looked behind him from where he sat on the floor, leaning against the midsection of his couch. “Can I get up there? My legs are starting to hurt.”

Feliks stared at the ceiling and then the throw pillow before answering. “Will you make me that cake?”

“Feliks, I already pinky promised.” His sigh was long but choppy.

“Two?”

“It’s my own couch.”

“I’ll make you do two and a half…actually that’s not a ba-”

“Two it is.”

With much grumbling, Feliks sat up from his lying position and scooted down so his friend could simply arm lift himself onto the couch. After he was done, Feliks returned to a sitting position so that they were next to each other.

The show about porny ribs and cake went off to make way for a new show about how food was made in factories. Feliks was pretty uninterested in how machines made corndogs but his eyes were still intent on the screen, watching the sticks shoved into the cornbread and hotdog treat. Feliks loved food. He loved to look at it, eat it, smell it, buy it. Anything but make it. Toris and Feliks came from similar situations where they were left alone a lot which meant they had to feed themselves. Feliks was sure that cooking and baking were genetic traits and he was just not born to be a chef or even someone that good at using a microwave. Toris was much better, on the other hand, which was one of the highlights of their friendship in the beginning. He didn’t even much care for Toris when they first met but he had stopped by because of a project they had been assigned together. He was practically dumbfounded when he found out Toris knew how to make more than Spaghetti-Os. Feliks was even bad at those; the microwave was usually splattered with oily red paste after he was done.

“Let me come by every day.” Feliks demanded, excitedly swinging his legs while he waited for Toris to make something.

“Okay.” Toris shrugged, happy to have someone home with him.

Now that he thought about it, that was probably how he was seduced in the first place. If the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and his own esophagus was like a six-lane highway then he was doomed from the start.

“You know,” Toris’ voice made him realize he had leant all the way over with his head in his hands, intent on watching those hotdogs dipped in that batter, “I’ve never actually paid attention to you when you look at food.”

Feliks didn’t feel self-conscious. More curious than anything. “Huh?”

“Your eyes open up really wide and you get this dreamy look on your face. It’s funny.” He chuckled to prove the point. “But also kind of…cute. I think.”

This was the kind of thing that kept him up at night. Feliks liked to think he was pretty emotionally transparent about people. If he didn’t like you then you knew it. If he liked you, you definitely knew it. Toris was a special case: Toris ALWAYS knew that Feliks liked him, just not how much and in what way. Feliks was pretty sure he was extremely careful, until recently when lines became blurred, about showing him a like that was friendly and chaste. He didn’t just throw in things that would allude to something or be misconstrued. If he did then he didn’t notice. Maybe he was clueless.

Regardless, Toris did that kind of thing all the time. He was so much more…evasive. There was actually a point where he thought he might actually have a chance a couple years ago. Toris was always so genuinely touchy feely with other men. That was the first gym class they’d shared. Feliks thought maybe his strange and hormonal gay mind might just be reading too much into things but after a while it felt kind of obvious that Toris was being way too handsy and familiar. Feliks couldn’t count how many times he’d be tying his shoes and Toris was being overly helpful, telling someone how to rub out a sore muscle and doing it for them. Putting his hands on a shirtless guy’s back while talking to him. He noticed too that it wasn’t just him who was kind of weirded out by this activity. Multiple guys would stare after him after he was done and giving him an expression of confusion. Were they just manhandled or the victims of a friendly physical therapy drive by?

Toris was just kind of confusing in a lot of ways. Straight men didn’t call their friends cute. Straight men didn’t kiss their male friends. Straight men certainly didn’t rub dicks with male friends and say it felt good afterwards. Straight men didn’t want to do it again.

But here he was, sitting with his straight friend that did literally all of those things. But he had expressed confusion before, hadn’t he? Toris was officially ‘identity challenged’.

Either way, it gave Feliks mixed emotions. It made his heart beat loudly in his ears to hear the person he liked call him cute. It made his stomach sink to his feet to know it was probably misplaced and misunderstood emotion.

“Thanks.” Feliks said a lot softer and more solemn than he intended.

“…oh I didn’t mean you were fat or anything!” Toris tried to correct himself, just in the wrong way. He was clueless. He’d never get it.

“I know I’m not fat.” Feliks let himself get a little snippy in spite of his self.

Toris just looked away, a confused and sorry look on his face. Feliks couldn’t stand it.

“Don’t call me cute if you don’t mean it.” It took a lot of strength to say it. As soon as he did, he wished he hadn't. At least part of him did. The part that said that all of this was okay as long as he got something.

“What?” Toris turned back to his friend. “I do mean it. You are cute. You of all people should know how cute you are. You flaunt it all the time.”

He was about to overload, he swore. His ears were hot. His teeth felt like they could chatter and he got goose bumps. He’d said he was cute, or implied it and acknowledged it over and over. He could live off of that whole mouthful for the rest of his life.

Toris swiveled a bit more to look at his friend who hadn't said anything and whose face was contorted. “If I didn't find you cute then we wouldn't have done all of those things.”

Don’t ruin it. Don’t you dare ruin it.

He had to tell himself the same thing. He’d cried a lot lately, so much so that he knew just when he was going to start the second the impulse began. This was a good thing, he reminded himself. Maybe he could continue his plan of friend conversion. After a while, Toris really would come to love him. They really could be together. He thought he was cute, after all.

Despite how their relationship started and seemed to progress, Toris was still the romantic and loving sort. Feliks knew that. When he kissed his cheek, he thought to himself that he expected that kind of thing from his friend. He wished he would kiss other places, not just his cheek. He wished he could tell that he was ready to cry because he owed all of his heart to him. Why couldn't he just see what was right in front of him? Why couldn't his mouth just take his and then whisper that he loved him too?

“Do you,” Feliks began, pretending to mess with his bang hairs to try and wipe the moisture off of his face. “Do you really think I’m cute? Like. Seriously?”

“Yes,” his friend rubbed his thigh. It wasn't in a sexual, sensual way, Feliks realized. He was acting more like a mother who was comforting a crying child. A sympathetic rub, those loving eyes, a peck on the cheek. That just made him angry. It made him fierce.

Feliks was defiant. “Prove it.”


	13. Cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. Not 24-7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a blow job or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have a feeling that they can’t hide.”   
> ― Rachel Cohn, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist

“Prove it?” Toris’ serene look turned a little lopsided. His hand was still on Feliks’ thigh. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Feliks puffed. “Figure it out.”

“Do you not believe me that much?” Toris asked. “Why do you think I’m lying.”

His friend now had a look on his face that was hurt and dejected. He was definitely not prepared for this. But he wanted to know. For once couldn’t something HE wanted first happen? Kisses didn’t count, he decided. That became mutual anyway. If he was ever entitled to be a spoiled brat, it was definitely now.

“I don’t think you’re lying?” Feliks offered finally, “But, like. I want you to prove it anyway.”

Toris’ eyebrows came very close together but he got up from his place on the couch and left the room. Hell. He’d really done it.

To see Toris angry was a rare occasion. He’d witnessed the phenomena maybe three times in seven years. Only once was it directed at him and the other two times were because of his mother. To see him get legitimately mad to the point of harsh words and yelling was like observing a rare bird species in the wild. Toris was subtly mad or passive aggressive. He didn’t storm out of the room or get cross like this.

Feliks immediately panicked.

He grabbed his bag and examined his mess of papers on the coffee table. Which were his? Which were Toris’? Did he want to be here? Was that some cue that he should leave? He quickly slid all the papers together with his hands, trying to make the best stack he could, grabbing a notebook of his and a coin purse that had fallen out. If he needed to leave then he could go quickly.

“What are you doing?” Toris had come back after all. Decidedly not mad.

“Uh,” Feliks smoothed the papers back out again, laughing nervously which sounded almost maniacal. “It’s a game. Two Hand Paper Stack. Get with the times, Tor.”

As his friend circled back around to sit back down, holding something in his hands, he could tell the look he was being given was one that was disbelieving. He sat down anyway, extending his offering to his friend so he could see what he got up to get. Feliks, still a little panicked, took it gingerly.

He recognized the item immediately. It was a photograph he’d given his friend in ninth grade. Toris had come over to his house and Feliks was rearranging the living room during a certain interior decorating kick. Toris was unlucky enough to come over on that certain day because he was quickly enlisted to help move things around and carry things heavier than Feliks would even try to lift and push. He’d opened a large trunk that was the resting place for some house plants, newly moved to a corner without any sunlight Toris had pointed out, to see what exactly was inside. He had no idea his family actually had any keepsakes at all. It was actually kind of depressing to see relics from a time where there was more than one person in his house at a time. There was a large and folded up baby blanket that he didn’t remember on top of everything inside the trunk. Moving it revealed a large stack of albums as well as another box of items he would sort through later.

Feliks had asked Toris to take out a large bag of garbage. When he huffed and puffed back inside, Feliks was flipping idly through the third of five photo albums. There first two were filled with old pictures of his mother and father. Hers had clippings of her various academic achievements and mentions in the paper. Her cotillion photos and commemorative blurb in the newspaper. A lock of her hair from when she was a child. His father’s album was much more sparse, only holding baby pictures and photos of himself that stopped once he’d reached about twelve, he guessed. The third actually had things about himself in it. He’d never seen them before.

Toris sat next to him while he flipped pages, both wordless. Feliks moved onto the fourth book which was much more recent. There wasn’t much in the way of clippings or announcements because he hadn’t ever really achieved anything but the pictures were more current. He noticed one was actually printed out from a social media account. The class photos they’d taken at the beginning of the year were tucked into a page. They weren’t paid for; still displaying the large watermark that forced parents to actually buy school photos.

He was proud of that photo. The color of the day was green. He’d made sure to look as good as possible for any official photo. He might not know many people at school but if they bought a yearbook and were flipping through it, they’d HAVE to stop at his picture to admire how great he looked. Years later, when someone was feeling nostalgic, they’d open up to the page where Feliks’ photo was and say “Man, that guy was totally stylin’.”

At least that’s how Feliks imagined it would go.

He loved that specific pair of dark green jeans. They, combined with his stark white dress shirt, made his eyes stand out. He’d tried something different with his hair, parting it to the side so it could be pinned back across his face. He didn’t like it usually but something made him seem more demure with that style and that outfit. Feliks hadn’t done it much sense but if it looked good with that outfit then it was definitely going to be the style of choice. He thought it accented his androgynous features, the ones he still had even now that he thought he might grow out of. He vaguely remembered wondering if maybe people would stop and look at him just to figure out if he was a feminine man or a school lesbian who was trying something different instead of because he was just too good looking to resist ogling. His vanity won out.

“Oh wow,” Toris had taken the sheet which held six watermarked, wallet sized photos. “You really did look nice.”

“You’re just now noticing?” He scoffed. That had actually been a nice bonus at the time. Maybe he would notice that Feliks was just too cute to handle and convert right on the spot. Unfortunately they hadn’t been in the same class when pictures were called for and Feliks had to change right before and after, afraid to get his outfit dirty on a very muddy and rainy day.

“Can I have one?” Toris had asked. “I know where the scissors are. Or do you think your parents would be mad?”

Feliks looked at the sheet. It hadn’t even looked like they’d even seen them. One of them had probably slipped them in there as a token for him one day. ‘Here, son. We don’t really care about stuff like this but you might. So. Here you go!’. At that point, and even now, he couldn’t imagine spending his life with anyone with Toris so he would be the intended recipient of this trunk’s contents anyway. What was the harm? Plus it felt special to know he cared for him enough to want it. His heart gleamed.

“Yeah, sure.” Feliks tried to be nonchalant. He wondered if they would ever even notice. He wondered if his friend would put it someplace special or just throw it away one day.

Sitting on Toris’ couch, his finger slid over the glossy photo paper. He guessed he found out if he kept it after all. Feliks hadn’t even really thought about it afterwards.

“Why are you showing me this?” He asked, examining it closely, looking for some clue.

“Well, I guess.” Toris trailed off, fidgeting with his hands sheepishly while he crossed and uncrossed his legs. “I thought it might be obvious.”

Wait. Was this somehow the proof he asked for?

This was definitely a good thing, Feliks thought as his mind raced quickly. He kept it, has it somewhere close by. He had something similar, something Toris had given him as a gift a long time ago. He had turned thirteen and Toris had brought him a very large stuffed horse for his birthday. Feliks was obsessed with equestrian sports and was even sent to a camp for it for four years but eventually stopped going when he got tired of the sport. It was as tall as a three year old and a fixture on Feliks’ bed. A couple months prior, his father had actually been home and had come into his room to ask what kind of takeout he wanted.

“Son,” he gave the horse a look while Feliks sat in bed in his pajamas. “You’re eighteen now. Don’t you think this is a little much?”

“Nope.” He was not ashamed to sleep with a stuffed animal still. It was great. It was warm on cold nights and he liked to sleep with the butt end between his legs; he hated the feeling of his thighs touching while he was trying to get some shut eye. It also reminded him of his best friend and had kept the smell of his house, even six years later. It was comforting.

The difference was that Feliks was very attached and clingy to things. Toris was not. Feliks was in love with him. Toris was not. It was just another example of how something that was such an obvious beacon just turned out to be a false flag.

It also made him a little upset to think that his proof was a picture. This was not reassuring him. Hell, he’d even brought up doing things. If he was so cute then why couldn’t he kiss him or something? Feliks knew deep down it was sentimental. He was being a brat. But this rubbed him both wrongly and rightly all at once.

“It reminds me of a dad showing off a picture of his kid.” Feliks flipped the picture over to see a sharpie smiley face he’d drawn on it that day. ‘here u go weirdo :)’.

“That wasn’t my intention.” Toris explained, “Feliks, I really don’t know what you want from me. I didn’t even know this was an issue. Or why it is one. I told you how I felt. Why isn’t that enough for you?”

His tone wasn’t harsh. It was pleading. He really did not want his friend to think he was being disingenuous, Feliks mused, while he handed back the picture. He was being spoiled. He was trying hard to pull something out of him, something that wasn’t in there. He’d seen romantic movies and how things like this were supposed to go. Person A would not understand Person B and question their motives. Then person B would scream “Because I love you!” and then they would kiss or cry or embrace or something. That was how this was supposed to go.

Person A (Feliks): Do you think I’m cute?

Person B (Toris): Yes, of course.

Person A (Feliks): Uh, how? Why? Tell me? Prove it to me then?

Person B (Toris): How about I tell you I love you instead?

That was what was in the script. Toris hadn’t gotten his copy.

“You think I’m cute because I look at food like I’m starving. You keep some picture of me from three years ago. I don’t know what intention that’s supposed to be anyway. But whatever.” Feliks knew he was lashing out because he was getting upset. It just wasn’t his day. It’s not like Toris hadn’t been on the receiving end of his attitude before.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Toris did sound sincerely apologetic. “Maybe I put my foot in my mouth. But I thought it was funny. That’s not the only reason. There are a lot of reasons.”

Feliks looked away, trying to remain defiant while trying to hide the pink tinge that began to creep up under his eyes.

“You have nice hair. Your laugh is nice. You look great all the time. Your fingernails are always nice and shiny. Your hobbies are cute, even the weird fixation you have with the stock market that suddenly came out of nowhere. Something about that makes it even cuter. So Feliks, please don’t think I was being rude. It’s the truth.”

He wanted to rub his eyes. He knew his nose was this close to turning red and his eyes felt watery. Why couldn’t he say things like that every day? Why did he have to make him feel so special when he knew that he couldn’t hold onto that feeling forever? One day Toris would find someone; man, woman, or otherwise. And they would get those special feelings. He would wake up next to THEM and tell them their hair looked nice. THEY would hear about how great they looked. He was just renting these words.

“Are you crying?”

Right then it didn’t matter if Toris was his because, even for a little bit, because one day he wouldn’t be and that would kill him.

Toris pulled him over into a hug, hands awkwardly positioned around his middle and behind his neck. “I’m not sure if the whole ‘cute’ thing is really the issue anymore…but please don’t cry. Talk to me and I’ll listen.”

It wasn’t; Toris was right. It was just part of it. God, he felt like he was being over dramatic but what else was new. He wasn’t even sure if he had a right to be upset but here he was, trying his hardest not to let the tears slip over his waterline.

“Or. I guess if you want to cry then that’s fine too. Just please don’t be so vague and strange. I want to help you but I can’t if you aren’t going to let me.”

Stop being so nice. Stop being concerned. He wanted to yell these things at him but he also wanted him to hug him forever. He was such a hopeless masochist, Feliks thought to himself. He hated the exact things he loved so much.

He finally turned his head and rested it on his friends shoulder, sniffing loudly. He felt Toris kiss the top of his head and let a few tears go.


	14. Sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I’d always secretly believed that a love as fierce and true as mine would be rewarded in the end, and now I was being forced to accept the bitter truth.”   
> ― Alma Katsu, The Taker

He didn’t cry much or for very long. He just got a few shaky sobs out before he rubbed his eyes, trying to let his emotions pass through him and out of his body in the form of mucous and saline.

“Sorry,” he finally choked, rubbing his face. “I must look like a total mess.”

“A little.” Toris joked. “Better?”

“Sort of?” Feliks wondered aloud more than answering the question. The large emotions he was feeling came in waves. Some days it was easier to rein them in than others.

“Stay over.” Toris commanded. “We don’t have school tomorrow. There’s no point in going home.”

It was then Feliks realized it was actually getting a little dark. He looked at a clock on the wall. 7:34.

“I’m not a baby. I can go home.” He finished rubbing away the evidence of his episode even though his face was still reddened. “I have, like. Plants to water and stuff.”

“I had to water your plants the last time I was over. A few of them were dead.”

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” Feliks protested but then snorted. “That wasn’t supposed to be some weird morbid plant pun.”

“I’m sure.” Toris patted the side of his arm. He was still embracing him. Feliks inhaled but disguised it as a sniffle. Toris always smelled like the same three things: cheap laundry detergent, coffee grinds, and a vague hint of sweat. It was comforting.

“I don’t have a change of clothes.” Feliks continued. “Or a toothbrush? Both of those are buzzkills.”

“I have those things.” Toris straightened out the hair Feliks had mused rubbing his head into him. “I’m worried about you.”

“God, you act like you’ve never seen me cry before.”

“Something’s different. There’s something you’re not telling me this time.” Toris’ voice became serious. “You aren’t usually so secretive.”

If only he really knew.

“I was thinking about those two people on the Titanic.” Feliks lied, trying to joke. “Like, maybe her fat butt should have let him on that door and he would have totally lived to kiss her another day, y’know?”

“I find that hard to believe,” Toris laughed anyway.

“If we were in the middle of some big water thing and only one of us would fit on the door and it was SUPER, super cold outside, would you let me sit on it?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good, I hate cold water. Gross.”

“Too bad you couldn’t move your own fat butt or we could both survive.”

Feliks giggled, sitting up to elbow him in the ribs.

Toris took the hint and dropped his serious tone. “So ‘cute’ is bad but saying your butt is fat is okay?”

“I know my butt isn’t fat.” Feliks elbowed him again.

“I think you know you’re cute too.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be making me a cake or something? TWO cakes?”

Toris lost the pretend argument and set about using his phone to find out how to make two hummingbird cakes. Feliks called his house using Toris’ landline so he could leave a voicemail in case anyone needed to know where he was.

“I soooooo doubt you’re there or care but I’m at Tor’s so call me if someone died, ‘kay?”

He considered going over to get some things but it seemed like it defeated the purpose of staying the night anyway. Feliks wondered how many other seventeen and eighteen-year-old boys had sleepovers voluntarily while he flipped through his phone lazily, wondering if he really would make the trek over there. Maybe if they ordered a pizza he would just run over to get his things and pick up the food, easy-peasy. It seemed like a good idea. He grabbed his wallet and rushed into the kitchen.

“You hungry? I’m totally starved.”

“Yeah, but I’m kind of busy.” Toris was whisking something pink. Wonderful.

“No worries. I’m buying pizza. Carry out.”

“Why not just deliver it?” Toris asked, turning to look at him while starting to fold in eggs.

“I’m actually gonna go home for some stuff. New clothes, shampoo, you know. Good stuff.”

“We have shampoo.” Toris knew what was coming though.

“YOU have Head and Shoulders. I have organic stuff that actually works? There’s a difference.” Feliks explained for the hundredth time. “You said I have good hair so. That’s probably why.”

“Fine.” Toris sighed and focused all of his attention on his mixing. “Dad will be home by nine so can you take my wallet and get him something too, please? Whatever has meat on it I’m sure will be fine.”

“Sure, whatevs.” Feliks turned, knowing their own orders by heart. He left the house, conveniently forgetting to grab Toris’ cash.

Feliks called the local pizza place while he walked, knowing every employee there by heart. He’d talked to them all enough to not be nervous anymore. One of the regular guys picked up the phone, and put in his regular order just by hearing the lilt in his voice. He added something for Toris’ father as well as an extra few slices of cheese bread just to be safe. Feliks really loved cheese bread.

It took him ten more minutes to walk home which meant he had about ten to get his things and ten to make it to the pizza place to pick up his order. He let himself in and was confused by the blinking answering machine before he remembered it was his own message.

He was practically a sleepover expert. It wouldn’t even take ten minutes to get all of his things together; Feliks had a mental checklist that he used to get all of his things together. His nice pajamas, tomorrow’s outfit (The color of the day? Fuchsia.), his oral hygiene products, everything he needed to have a nice bath, and he deposited all of his unnecessary school things, meaning all of them, on his bed. He also brought along Toris’ stuffed horse gift, just for old time’s sake. Maybe it would be a nice gesture if he showed him he also had mementos of his best friend.

All of these things proved problematic when it came to getting the pizzas. He didn’t think about how carrying a bag of toiletries, a very large stuffed horse, and a backpack full of clothes would hinder him from carrying pizza comfortably. He received weird looks going in, groaning out, and then shuffling along the street with a large horse covering his face while it stood on top of his purchase. By the time he brought all three large pies and the extra box of bread home he was famished.

“Oh. My. God. I’m never doing that again. Like, God. I’m gonna tip those guys more. That was brutal. Massage my back later, will you?”

Feliks dropped his things by the door like usual and made a show of how tired he was, slumping into the kitchen with a limp.

He didn’t expect to see Toris’ dad there. Now that he thought about it, there was a car in the driveway. How late was it?

“You didn’t take my cash.” Toris gave him a look over the tall, iced cake on the table. It hadn’t been cut into yet. Perfect

“Oh, let him buy me a pizza.” His father had a glass of wine and looked a bit rugged. “It’s the least he can do for eating our food all the time.”

“Yeah, no big.” Feliks set all three down on the table, preening instead of putting on his straggler act. “I’m nice so why not.”

Toris’ father turned to look at him. “So can I eat this now?” Pointing at the cake. “My son was very adamant that it would upset you if I ate it first.”

“It would.” Feliks bluntly stated, telling the truth. They had a relationship where they could talk like this. His own father was very chilly and to the point but Toris’ father was more of a guy’s guy. They could joke around together and it would be fine.

He snapped his fingers playfully like he’d just been double crossed. “Damn.”

“I told you. Eat your pizza first anyway.” Toris began opening boxes while Feliks got out soda from the fridge. There was sausage and hamburger that was for Toris’ father. The extra cheese, pepperoni, and mushroom was Feliks’. Toris was obviously the bell pepper, anchovies, and pineapple.

Toris’ father leaned over to Feliks while he was eating a slice. “I swear to you he gets it from his mother. I think she’ll put anything in her mouth.”

Feliks missed the innuendo. Toris did not. “Please, I’m eating.”

“One time in school he cut up a deviled egg, put it in mashed potatoes, and then put it on top of Salisbury steak.” Feliks shook his head. “He’s, like, genetically off or something. What happened, honestly?”

“That’d be the mother.”

“You two quit it.”

The pizzas were quickly consumed. Toris shoved the leftovers into the fridge and the trio quickly dug into their cake. Feliks thought that it tasted as good as it looked. Toris, a fan of pineapple in all forms, also liked it while his father could only eat one piece.

“Waaaay too sweet for me, buddies.”

As per the routine, Toris washed dishes as they went so there wasn’t really any cleaning up afterwards. Toris’ father got up to put a straggling bottle of ranch away that they’d used for pizza dipping.

“I might head out for a bit in a second, boys. Got a few things to do.”

“At almost ten at night?” Toris asked.

“Yes, son. The moon and the open road await me.”

Toris frowned but Feliks nodded like he himself understood the calling, making a thoughtful face. He excused himself, though, to get into pajamas. If his dad was leaving then they could slumber party in peace; not that he was ever much of a hindrance to their fun anyway. Feliks recalled one night in eight grade when he’d come over and Toris’ father allowed him to play hair salon with his own hair. He could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t sure about this and that it seemed strange for a fourteen-year-old to be playing some form of dress up, especially a boy. After it was over, though, he actually stared wide-eyed in the mirror Feliks provided.

“I’ll be damned,” he looked at his wavy sides and spiked top. It complemented his face while making him look five years younger. “Kid’s a natural.”

Feliks slunk down the stairs with a spray bottle and was fully changed, wondering if he could recreate the magic when he stopped suddenly, realizing the house was too quiet. He could see from the window that Toris’ father’s car was still there but he couldn’t be heard anywhere in the house. He was a large man who made a lot of noise so it was strange that he was getting ready soundlessly, somehow. The stairs stopped right outside the second kitchen door. Feliks leaned around once he’d gotten to the bottom to see what was up and also to perhaps commence with a sneak attack, tucking his head back in when he noticed the two other men. The first few lines of conversation he couldn't hear until he pressed his ear to the wall of the stairwell.

“―and I’m telling you, son. I don’t care. I’d rather you just tell me than you feel like you’ve got to sneak around or something.”

Toris’ father was standing next to his son at the sink. Toris had moved the large cake to a tray to keep it in the fridge so he was scrubbing the pan it was baked in.

“I’m telling YOU, dad. I don’t have anything to sneak around about. Honestly.”

“Look. I’m not trying to embarrass you. But I know when you asked to borrow my credit card that you weren’t shopping for textbooks. Well, I saw the Amazon purchase. But I know. About the, uh, other thing.”

Toris didn’t say anything. Feliks saw his elbow sharply jut in and out, scrubbing harder.

His father leaned in and Feliks could barely make out his lowered tone.

“Look. I’m a man. I’m damn near fifty. When I see something vague like ‘Johnson’s Packaging Services’ on my credit card bill, I know you’re not buying boxes. That isn’t even clever. That sounds like a gay porn site.”

“It’s not a gay porn site.”

“I don’t know if it is or isn’t but I know it sure isn’t packaging. Unless that’s some new term for-”

“Alright, maybe it is something…not related to boxes. But why do you think it has anything to do with him?”

“I’m not blind. I’m not deaf. I’m not stupid. And I don’t care, son. I’m happy about it. I’d be over the damn moon if you’d just TELL me about it.”

“There’s nothing to tell you, dad. I swear. It’s really not like that. You can ask him yourself and he’ll tell you.”

“I don’t care if he tells me. I don’t care if he lies to me. I care about you telling me and lying to me. I just don’t know why you can be honest about so many things but you can’t tell me about this. Especially when you know I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

There was a moment of silence between the two; his father had probably sounded more aggravated than he wanted with that last statement. Toris pushed past his father to rinse his cake pan. His father sighed.

“Either way, I’m getting out of your hair for the night. You can have the privacy to braid each other’s hair or talk about school or whatever it is you do usually if that’s all it is. You do need a haircut. There are perks of dating a fledgling hairdresser, you know.”

Feliks crept back upstairs before shutting himself in the bathroom again, careful to close the door silently. He flushed the toilet for good measure. He wasn’t so stupid that he didn’t understand part of that conversation. What he did know was:

One. Toris was sneaking around and buying strange things online that had some sexual nature to them.

Two. He was lying to his father which he thought he would never do.

And three. His father thought they had something going on. That they might be dating. That they might be doing things.

This actually didn’t make his heart hurt. Instead, he felt both giddy and also a little nervous. Was it so obvious that he had feelings for him? His father didn’t see him much but did he really think that Feliks was bad at hiding it and Toris was good at it, but not very, and they were keeping some relationship from him? If he knew, then who else knew? Did his parents know? He saw them just as much as Toris’ dad, maybe a little less. Did people at school know?

Did Toris know? Was that what he was doing but Feliks wasn’t in on the joke? Maybe what was really going on was Feliks’ feelings were so obvious that Toris just spared him the misery of being rejected and humiliated by saying anything and his father didn’t realize this.

That actually DID hurt his heart but he dismissed it. There was no way Toris knew. Toris was a bad liar. He’d know if he knew.

Not to mention it was embarrassing to think that Toris’ father might know about their…incidents. Or at least have some idea. Had they changed since it started? Feliks knew he’d been looping around internally for a couple of months but it wasn’t something he thought they outwardly showed much. There’d been a few times, like the crying and the throwing up, but everything was normal otherwise.

The part that made him giddy was that Toris’ father had given his blessing even if they weren’t actually together. He would be happy for his son if that was the case. His heart practically bounced with joy at the thought. One day, when Toris had seen the error of his ways and proclaimed his love, they could tell his father and he would put his hand on his son’s shoulder.

“You did good, Toris.”

If only.


	15. Bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I had a dream about you last night. The champagne was non-alcoholic. You didn't notice, and laughed at my jokes anyway.”   
> ― Michael Summers, I Had a Dream About You

It seemed as good a time as any to take a shower. He did so quickly, scrubbing hard as he thought, making his scalp and skin red. Feliks wasn’t so sure of himself and felt wisps of self-conscious tremors nip at the bottoms of his feet. He came downstairs after he heard the front door shut, making sure not to turn on the hair drier until he was sure he heard him leave. If he had seen Toris’ father off he might have let out something dumb.

He could be self-aware, sometimes.

Toris was still in the kitchen. He sat at the table with a blank stare on his face, looking at the refrigerator. Feliks knew when Toris was deep in thought. His forehead would show hints of the deeply set wrinkles he’d one day have. The left side of his mouth turned down and his cheek dimpled. This was more a look of solidarity and of nothing really being on his mind at all. Toris almost looked sleepy.

Feliks had foregone bringing anything down with him this time. He realized his hands were a little shaky and thought it might be obvious that he was giddy by holding something that would so easily give his nerves swaying away. He’d peeked around the corner again, though, observing.

“Boo!”

Toris didn’t move. Weird.

Feliks entered the room which also didn’t make him stir. Was he really so spaced out? He’d poked his cheek before he got a rise out of him.

“What was that for?” Toris garbled slightly, finger still shoved into his face.

“Because you’re being such a total space case right now.” Feliks wiggled the fingertip. He didn’t remove it. “It’s totally a bummer.”

“Sorry, sorry.” The finger was removed. “I guess I’m tired?”

“Does that mean no hair braiding or talking about school?” Feliks laughed.

Toris’ face was a little softened but it shot still again, though not as harshly. Oops. He’d said something dumb. He knew he would.

“Did you hear that?”

“Oh, uh.” Feliks tried to lie, but could feel his facial muscles betraying him with a knowing smile. He probably looked like a serial killer. “Nope! My ears are super clogged right now!”

“I don’t care if you did. Uh. Well I don’t know how much you did hear, anyway. But it’s alright. It’s just a little…I’m not sure. Maybe embarrassed.” Toris shook his head. Feliks continued to laugh as if it wasn’t happening. What a defense mechanism.

“Still don’t really know what you mean! Buuuut I’m going upstairs so. Be a weirdo down here or one up there. Whatever you want, okay?”

“I’ll be up in a minute.” Toris stood up from the table. His father’s wine glass was still there, half empty. Feliks turned down the hall to collect his other bag and his horse. He saw Toris take a sip out of the corner of his eye.

The great thing about their sleepovers was that they were always mutually fun. Feliks remembered the first time he’d slept over, Toris was very unsure and nervous about the whole affair. Feliks had had to remind him that it was cool; plenty of dudes had slumber parties, even though that wasn’t true. As their night progressed, neither of them cared. Feliks would explode into giggles and it became contagious. Feliks never truly ever felt like he was imposing on anything with Toris, ever. Even when he sighed or scolded, Feliks knew it was loving, if only in a very deep way that stemmed from the best kind of friendship that you could ever find.

If you asked him if he loved Feliks, he’d say yes without hesitation.

They’d slept in each other’s beds together over and over in perfectly chaste ways. The only time it got even remotely sexual was when one or the other would wake up with an erection. That was normal; both of them knew what morning wood was so neither of them cared. Feliks might have teased Toris once. Possibly. If it did happen, it was only to cover up the fact that it was actually kind of invigorating the first time. But Feliks had slept in a bed with Toris before and after coming to an emotional understanding of his feelings and he considered it like sacred ground. He never used it to fantasize or thought about it in a sexual way as he drifted off to sleep. He knew most people couldn’t restrain themselves, though.

“If only I could just reach out and touch him…!” Yeah, right.

That was gross to him. Sleepovers were all about friendship and harmony. Seeing snot come out of someone’s nose from laughing too much and not caring or noticing they don’t wipe it for a while. Trying to figure out the best way to mix pretzels, salsa, and marshmallows so that they’d be edible together (for the record, Toris had come up with something that was like pretzel gratin with salsa soup and a marshmallow topping). It was about staying up until five in the morning on a PlayStation 1, dangerously close to overheating; trying to see how many zombies you could kill in ten minute sprints. There wasn’t anything sexy or romantic about that, Feliks always thought. This was the place where he couldn’t allow himself to think about Toris in any way that wasn’t friendly. Even if you’re in love with your best friend, there has to be time for friendship in there somewhere.

So he brushed his stuffed horse’s mane with a comb he found in Toris’ desk and sat on his friend’s bed. It had been a day. If he wanted to sleep, Toris could sleep. It would actually feel reassuring to sleep together and he wouldn’t have to worry about penises or kisses or anything else like that. They could just be two teenagers who wanted to rest while still staying up for hours whispering to each other like they normally did.

Toris came upstairs with a much better and warmer attitude. It was like he too understood that this was a place where everything else fell to the floor and dissipated upon entering the holy land.

“Is that the thing I got for your birthday one year?” He asked, smiling brightly.

“Yes,” Feliks combed her mane to the side. The synthetic material was very well worn but not frayed or bushy. Feliks thought she looked majestic.

“I can’t believe you still have that after five years.” Toris kneelt to get to a drawer under his bed. The horse leaned over to meet his gaze. “I got rid of all my stuffed toys years ago.”

“Well, blrrrr, you keep old pictures for way too long, blrrrrr.”

Toris looked up. His eyebrows were together.

“That was her, dude.” Feliks shook his head, sagely. “Definitely not me.”

“It’s a girl?”

“Duh? Of course she’s a girl.”

“Forgive me, miss.” Toris patted her head apologetically. He finally took out suitable clothing and changed. Feliks didn’t look once.

Once that was done with, Toris looked expectantly at his friend with hands on his hips. This was the part where usually something fun happened.

“So?”

“What?” Feliks asked, in the middle of making his horse run a race around an imaginary track on Toris’ bed sheet.

“What’s on the itinerary?”

“You said you wanted to sleep, so.” Feliks shrugged. “I’m waiting.”

“Well, I mean. I’m sure that’d be boring for you.” It wasn’t often that they just passed out without actually doing anything. At least not anything that was sleepover related.

“No, it’s okay. Like, I’m basically pooped so.” This wasn’t exactly true, but it would also be very comforting, he felt, to just lie down and be warm and secure in something for once.

“If you say so.” Toris matched his friend’s shrug. “I’ll brush my teeth then. Wake me up if you change your mind.”

Toris left to go finish getting ready for bed and Feliks set about doing the same. He pulled back the covers of Toris’ constantly made bed and scooted the three pillows around to his liking. Two for him, one for Toris. His horse would crowd the mattress that was barely bigger than a twin, so she was placed on the desk. Feliks positioned her so that she could watch over them while they slept.

He turned the room’s light off and switched on a standing lamp Toris had next to the left side of his bed, pulling the long chain twice so that it was dim. His silken pajamas slid right in against the cotton sheets. Toris had slept with the same navy blue bed since he’d first met him. His mattress was still the same; now his toes feet hung over the edge slightly. Feliks heels rested dangerously at the bottom. He lay to one side, knees curled. The heat was on but the cold sheets were chilly.

Toris came in after another few minutes. He seemed to have washed his hair, maybe in the sink, and his cotton shirt was wet around the shoulders and middle. This didn’t faze either of them. He slid in opposite his friend.

“Dry your hair better.” Feliks tousled it with the hand that wasn’t underneath him. “No wonder it’s such a mess all the time; for real.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t exactly wet but still had a ways to go. Feliks took his hand away to let the mess fall in his face. He blew away some strands so he could see better. “I’m not worried about it.”

“You should be.” Feliks whispered, pulling up their covers. “I’m sure it leads to major illnesses. Like hair cancer or something.”

“I’ll have to look it up, but I don’t think your hair can get cancer.”

“That’s what you think.”

“That’s what science KNOWS.”

Feliks sat up, the pet peeve getting to him. “Okay, sleep time out. I’ve gotta do something with it or I’ll go, like, completely bonkers.”

Toris complied, sitting up on his elbows to grab the comb his friend had left out. It still had a few horse mane hairs entangled in it. “I guess we do get to braid each other’s hair.”

“You brought it up that time, not me.”

Toris sat with his back to his friend while he expertly parted sections of his hair with the comb, holding it between his fingers while he proceeded to brush other parts dry. It didn’t take long to do the back, even though his friend’s hair was thick. God, he could get so jealous. He even told Toris once.

“You’re jealous? Of this?” He held a piece absentmindedly, trying to see what was so special.

“Well. Not like how it is now or anything. But, like. It’s got sooo much potential. It’s thick, your roots are good. It grows super-fast which is so not a bad thing. You could go totally bluenette or something. It’d be cool.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Turn around,” he instructed, done with the back and was ready to move to the front and bangs. Toris obliged and Feliks took up his work again, on his knees so he could lean around and over. Toris sat quietly while he did his work, finally finished after a few more minutes. He still held the comb, though, and set to styling the front.

“Do I need to tip you for this?” Toris laughed. Feliks was actually attempting a plaited style.

“Yes. Another cake.”

“That’s why your butt is fat.”

Feliks hit his forehead with the comb while Toris laughed at him.

“You’ll make me screw up and your hair will fall out.” He laughed while he said it.

“It won’t fall out!”

“It will. I’ll make one wrong move and you’ll be totally bald.”

“I don’t think I’d mind being bald,” Toris mused.

“Oh my God, do not waste all this good hair on being bald. I’ll put you in a loony bin.”

“I don’t think it’s nearly as good as you think it is, Fel.” Toris blushed in spite of his words. “I’d rather have hair like yours.”

“Mm.” Feliks had the comb in his mouth, using his fingers in his friend’s hair. He’d made a decent flat braid that ran through a strip on the right side of his head. He didn’t have anything to tie it off with though, so he sat and watched the dry strands slowly soot apart.

“I meant it when I said your hair was nice.” Toris’ hand reached up to run a hand through it, letting the thin, curtained hair fall through his fingers. “It’s soft.”

Feliks smiled, comb finally being removed. “It’s all that shampoo, I’m telling you. I’ll buy you a bottle and you’ll be like ‘Wow! He really knew what he was talking about, just like always!’ or something.”

Toris’ hand fell to his shoulder, squeezing it softly. Feliks beamed up at him, waiting for him to laugh at his joke or agree that he was indeed the authority on hair and related products and accessories. Instead, he looked at him with soft eyes. They weren’t far apart at all; Feliks’ knees were in the crook where Toris’ feet were, sitting on them. It didn’t take much effort to kiss him sweetly.

“ _You’re_ soft.” he said. Despite it being holy ground, Feliks kept smiling.


	16. Chastity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Even before you touched me, I belonged to you; all you had to do was look at me.”   
> ― Louise Glück

The bliss lasted for a few seconds which was longer than he liked to admit. He wanted to say something cross, like how dare Toris ruin their sacred friendship space, but those weren’t the words that came out.

“That’s soooo weird to say.”

“I think it sounded better in my head.” Toris rubbed one side of his face, almost dreamy.

“You gotta stop picking up lines from Nick Sparks, Tor. It’s way cheesy.” Feliks shook his head. “What is that supposed to mean anyway? Now maybe I think I really am totally fat.”

“No! It’s not a fat thing!” His friend grabbed his shoulders, making sure to look right at him. “That’s not what I meant at all!”

“Chill. I know it’s not. Gosh, get a sense of humor, will you?” Feliks laughed. “Sorry I’m not chiseled like a Greek god or something.”

“I don’t think I’d go that far…”

“That was a joke too. Gosh, get a clue. Don’t you know a bad line when you hear one? No wonder you called me fat, you ditz.”

Something about their conversation made the two of them burst out laughing. They both simultaneously seemed to realize that they both sucked at anything resembling foreplay at that moment.

“I’m not good at being very romantic, I guess.” Toris wiped at his eyes, smudging away some tear residue. He hadn’t noticed how hard he’d laughed.

“You aren’t supposed to be, dummy.” Feliks socked him in the shoulder. It was hard, he realized. Maybe it was a little bit of the pain he was feeling that was being covered up by enjoying laughing with his best friend. He hadn’t done it that much in a while. That feeling was welcome, heartache wasn’t at the moment.

If it was uncovered, however, it would be standing up and shouting as loud as possible. “Don’t talk about romance when we’re not romantically involved! Stop confusing sex and love, you moron! If you just want to screw me, then you don’t have to confuse me all the time!”

But that would be for when he got home and IF he thought about it again. 

The two gave up after a while, tucking themselves back in after turning off the light. Feliks smiled dreamily as he lay down, hoping Toris had closed his eyes. Regardless of anything, it did feel good to get something akin to a goodnight kiss.

His head wouldn’t settle down, though, as his brain didn’t want to be shut off just yet. Toris was right. It WAS boring to go to sleep right away. Isn’t that what adults did? Go to sleep at ten or eleven at night? It was the weekend, he was a teenager (though technically an adult), and there was fun to be had. It did feel nice to lie like this, he thought, but it would feel nicer to do something fun THEN lie down together.

“Tor?” Feliks asked. About thirty minutes had passed. Lacking social grace, he called loudly and not quietly like a more polite person would.

Luckily Toris was indeed awake. “Yeah?”

“I changed my mind, this is way boring.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

“Uh, are you psychic or something? Because I didn’t think you were.”

“I know you better than you do, Feliks.”

“Sure. Like that’s possible.”

“It’s true.” Toris was whispering while Feliks spoke normally. His eyes were open in the darkness but he could see his friend’s were closed while he talked. “Like how you never buy wooden pencils, one of your feet is bigger than the other, your ear mole, you-”

Feliks narrowed his eyes. “My ear what?”

Toris opened his finally. “You didn’t know?”

“Are you lying to me?”

“No, no. You have a discoloration on the back of your right ear. No one ever told you? You didn’t know?”

“How am I supposed to see what’s on the other side of my ear? Oh my God, is it big? Black? Should I get it removed?”

Toris’ hand that was lying on top of his side rubbed his friend’s shoulder reassuringly. “No, it’s light brown. About the size of…a q-tip top. Don’t worry, it’s interesting.”

“My possible skin cancer is not interesting.”

“What is with you and cancer lately?”

“Show me where it is, oh my God, I might barf.”

Toris sat up just a little, enough to free the hand he was laying on and use it to move Feliks’ hair out of the way. He scooted closer so he could squint through the dark, his other hand grabbing his friend’s ear amid a few grunts and “oof”s.

“Right here. It’s not even raised. Most likely a birthmark.”

“Oh my God, how did you not tell me? This is so gross! I bet the first time you saw it you thought ‘Oh look at that slob Feliks with some weird spaghetti sauce blob behind his ear’!”

“With as much as you wash your hair, I never thought it was anything other than your skin.”

Feliks furiously rubbed it after Toris took his hands away, almost convincing himself it WAS some food stain left after years of neglect. “That’s so grody. People will notice! I’m practically defective!”

“No one will notice.”

“YOU noticed.”

Toris didn’t speak for a moment. Feliks could make out his facial expression because they were so close. It was soft still and perhaps a little pensive. “Well. That’s different.”

“Different how, huh?” His ear had begun to hurt so he left it alone.

“Like the picture and the horse and everything. You know. Things best friends know that no one else does.”

“Oh.” Feliks mumbled. “Like your freaky callouses?”

“Uhm. I think everyone I touch knows I have callouses.”

“Hmm…” Feliks thought, turning on his side, finally giving up on manually getting rid of his newly found birthmark. He knew so much that he could easily use his memory and knowledge much like an old library card catalog. Take a turn of the wheel, pull out an index card, and he’d have a random fact about Toris he’d committed to memory. There were so many that it seemed lame to list just one, obsessive to list them all, and pathetic to just give up. So he made it comical. “Well, we’re practically twins so it’s not worth talking about. I got all the looks, though.”

Toris was silent, still lying on his back under the duvet and staring, now, at the fading fabric. Feliks felt awkward, knowing his joke went flat, though he wasn’t sure why. Toris spoke after a while. “I guess there’s a lot we know about each other now no one else really knows.”

Feliks pondered how that differentiated from the current conversation until his brain grasped a hold of the word “now” and understood exactly what was being referenced. His mental calculations then jumped to the next idea he could glean from that statement: “no one else”. While he had suspected it to be true, as much as his doubts would flare up from time to time, this was certainly confirmation that no one else had ever held and pressed and kissed Toris’ body like he had.

“Yeah…” He sighed, but it came out more dreamily than he had wanted. The idea that he had ownership over these steps and milestones made him feel like flying. If Toris had a checklist of firsts, Feliks’ name would be all over it. First best friend, first bicycle accident caused by another person, first secret keeper. First kiss, first handjob, first person to see his ejaculate. And now he didn’t have to suppose or guess: he knew.

When Toris turned to him in bed and began to whisper again, he knew that he would be fine with throwing the rules of friendship to the wind for one day. He knew before Toris even asked him about it.

“It’s embarrassing, but. I actually wanted to do, uh. Things today.” There was a laugh in his voice at the end of each sentence that was tinged with embarrassment and modesty, like this was still a new and foreign concept. Like this wasn’t just something that seemed to normally be implanted in each of their minds anymore.

They kissed a little more passionately this time, though Feliks knew it was more so a lusting emotion than anything else. He felt too good to feel bad about giving himself over to release, as much as that sounded like he belonged in a bad erotic e-book, like he’d caught his mother reading on her tablet. He’d peered over her should to see phrases like “desire-filled eyes”, “thighs tinged with rosy want”, and “a parted mouth, asking to be soiled”. Feliks didn’t want to be so feminine and cliché, but he could feel his own check list being run through as they progressed. Their eyes met; he was self-conscious about how much Toris could read in them. They kissed; Feliks wondered if he was being too eager with his lips and teeth clinking and sloppy tongue. Toris’ knee hit the very inside of his thigh; his penis stiffened and he opened his legs wider.

Nothing about it was chaste and innocent, but nothing about it was hot and perfect, either, and Feliks liked it that way. There wasn’t a dance, there wasn’t any rushing, flustered glances exchanged while bathed in the light of a moon or stars or a streetlamp. There wasn’t any hosiery. But he knew he was going to lose his virginity anyway. The moment was his and he’d have it, gladly.

**Author's Note:**

> something i made for twin and the twinniversary （ﾉ´д｀）（ﾉ´д｀）（ﾉ´д｀）（ﾉ´д｀）（ﾉ´д｀）（ﾉ´д｀）（ﾉ´д｀）


End file.
